


I Would See You Unscarred

by RavenSinead



Series: Transient Eternity [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/F, Injury, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenSinead/pseuds/RavenSinead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is many things, protection, devotion, adoration. It also has its darker sides. Domination, degradation, abuse. But which is stronger? Love's better side, or darker side? The Marjolaine story arc. POV switch between Cousland and Leliana. Little to no canon dialogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Promising Heartbreak

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters and situations belong to BioWare. I own nothing.

**Salem Cousland**

    "Do what you need to do and get back to camp." I told the others. "Keep as low a profile as you can."

    "Sod it." Oghren groused. "First chance to buy a decent brew since Orzammar and ya gotta go and say play it close to the vest."

     "We cannot risk exposure." Leliana broke in, smiling just for me. "I know that I, for one, do not want to be in Loghain's prison."

     Her eyes filled with nightmares for a single moment. I knew no amount of sheer joy would remove them completely. Our errand was of a grim nature, one that would drag her back, kicking and screaming, to the hell she called her past. I only prayed I could be there for her when all was said and done.

     "Denerim is more dangerous than it seems." Wynne agreed with me. "Salem is right. It is best we finish our business and return to camp."

     "Yes." Alistair drawled. "I'm sure Morrigan is _dying_ for us to return and keep her company."

     I laughed and we went our different ways. I walked beside Leliana, unsure of what to say. These feelings between us were so new, and already being tried and tested. _What lines are drawn between us?_ I wondered. _I'm too afraid to overstep; too scared to draw away. Maker, tell me what she needs._

     As if in answer to a voiceless prayer, Leliana's hand slipped in mine.

     "Are you all right?" I dared to ask.

     "No." she whispered. "I wish that I could step away from this moment, let someone else slip into my body, and watch this like the dramas in the theatres of Orlais."

     "I wish I could give you that opportunity. You do know, Leliana, you did not have to come. Alistair and I would..."

     "I know what you would have done." she interrupted. "And while I am grateful, you know enough of me to understand that I must do this myself. I must see Marjolaine with my own eyes."

     "But why just take me?" I asked. "Why not bring along Wynne, or Alistair? They're trustworthy."

     She smiled again and my heart leapt. Strange, that moments like this reminded me of how it felt to be young. My family's massacre had propelled me into bloodshed and death, betrayal and intrigue. Funny, that even in the midst of hell, I could claw out some happiness and give my heart to love. I wished I could have talked with my mother about this...although the lecture about the lack of grandchildren would have chafed.

     "Salem," Leliana's voice broke me from reverie, "you are the only one I have let peer into my heart. It is no longer something I give away easily. You must think me very selfish, asking and allowing only you when numbers would endanger us less."

     I stopped her in the alley and stared into her gorgeous blue eyes. "I trust your judgment, and you. If you think the two of us alone can deal with Marjolaine, I am content."

     "Be careful, Salem." she touched my cheek. "Your nobility is showing."

     "Ha!" I scoffed.

     My father was known for the unorthodox ways in which he raised his children. I had been the laughingstock of the bannorn. _I wonder what they would think if they could see me now, two swords hanging from my back, wearing plate armor, charging into battle against darkspawn, werewolves, abominations...and in love with an Orlesian bard._

     "You laugh, but it is true. Despite your warrior ways, you are every inch nobility."

     "Then I should fear for my life." I grinned. "Or so your stories lead me to believe."

     Leliana shushed me as a patrol of Loghain's soldiers passed by. "Hush, my love." she cautioned. "Do not jest of things too close to the truth. It invites misfortune."

     "Because the fact that the arch-demon can sense me does not already invite such things."

     "Your dark humor is so charmingly Ferelden." she shook her head, though her tone held amusement. "And it is something both you and Alistair have in common. Although, for some reason, Morrigan finds yours amusing and his appalling."

     _Morrigan, right. We need to finish this quickly before she enchants our bedrolls to strangle us in the night._

     "I cannot even pretend to vaguely understand that one." I took Leliana's arm and guided her down the alley. "I know this will be difficult, Leliana," I altered the subject of our discussion, "but I am here for you. I promise you that I will not let Marjolaine harm you again."

     "Can you promise me one thing?" Leliana asked.

     "Of course."

     "Support my decision, no matter the outcome. Please, even if it seems irrational, or ridiculous, let me make this choice for myself."

     _This is why she wanted to do this with me alone._ I realized. _None of the others would leave her decisi_ _ons unchallenged. And I would become a mediator instead of someone who should support her wholeheartedly._

     "You are asking me to let you go." my throat tightened. "Aren't you?"

     Her lower lip trembled and she nodded. "Please, Salem."

     My heart lurched uncomfortably in my chest and a memory flooded back into my eyes.

* * *

     _I lie back, watching Leliana's hands tremble as they pluck at the edge of her shirt. Her shoulders are bunched, knotted. I want to rise and massage them, but this is a battle she must face alone._

_"In the Chantry, many of the sisters bathed together." she breaks the silence. "So many had come from varied backgrounds, but all that mattered was the task at hand. No questions were raised, no information demanded. It was pleasant, for a while, to forget the past, to fabricate stories...anything so as not to reveal...the truth."_

_Hesitant, trembling, she pulls her shirt over her head and lays it aside, allowing me to gaze on her body for the first time. I gasp, following her deep curves, drinking in the shadows as they dance across her body. She turns her back to me and I see what she keeps concealed._

_Horrific scars cover her back. I rise and trace the lines of marred skin from the tops of her shoulders, down, until they disappear beneath her rough-spun linen pants. "I am...sorry..." she whispers, "...that I cannot offer you something whole."_

_I take her into my arms, enfolding her from behind, kissing her shoulders, tracing the scars across her abdomen and sides with my callused fingers. "Shhhh, love." I soothe her, wiping away her tears. "You are whole. I love you, and these scars are part of you. Part of what I love."_

_I kiss her, assuring her with actions what I cannot say with words. She returns it, feverish, too ardent too soon, trying to burn away her tears and her memories. My hands trace up and down her sides, stopping as I feel another scar, ragged and poorly healed._

_"Who did this to you?" I ask, pulling away from her kiss. Leliana presses her head into my shoulder._

_"The one I loved...more than anything."_

_**Someone you loved...betrayed you in this way? Marred you? Tried to steal your life? Never, Leliana, will I let someone touch you again in this way. And, I think, you are not prepared for my touch...no matter that you came tonight intending to offer me such a thing. It is not time. Not yet.**_

_"I see." I swallow, unsure of what to say.  
_

_"Can we speak of this...some other time?" she pleads with eyes and words. "Tonight..."_

_"I will just love you." I smile. "As you are, for who you are. Now, my darling girl, no more words."_

_I guide her down onto my bed roll, fitting our bodies together, listening to her breath hitch as my hands rove over her arms and torso. She is not ready to give me that which I desire. She offers her body in lieu of her heart, and I will not take until she can give me both. Tonight will be for rest, for trust, for love._

* * *

 

I snapped back to the present, remembering that moment when I had chosen to accept Leliana, her secrets, her smiles, and her scars. 

"I promise." I swore to her, knowing as we approached the door that my own heart could be forfeit.


	2. Mortal Demons

**Leliana**

     I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. My heart still pounded in my chest with the force to break my ribs. Salem glanced at me from the door. Her eyes always held sorrow, but now her pain showed in unshed tears. I had asked so much of her. Perhaps too much. 

     "Are you certain, Leliana?" she asked.

     _Once again, she gives me the choice, as she always has. Maker, show me the way. Help me protect her._

     "I am." I said, taking her place before the door. "I will go first to check for traps."

     "As you say." she agreed, but I heard the frustration in her voice. I knew she aimed it at herself.

     Salem Cousland, a noble, a warrior, a Grey Warden...a protector above all. Ever since I had known her, she had always been the first sword into battle, the calmest voice in an argument, the strongest of us in the strangest of times. Only Alistair was bound to accompany her on this journey; the rest of our rag-tag band had joined them for various reasons.

     In spite of this, Salem attempted to take every blow herself. And when she could not, the guilt weighed her down more than her plate armor.

     _So very different from...Marjolaine..._ even my thoughts choked over her name. _Marjolaine only got her hands dirty when she wanted to. She would never have sacr_ _ificed anything of herself. I am living proof of that._

     I opened the door and stepped into the room. I knelt down, feeling along the floor for wires and pressure plates. A steady presence behind me radiated ferocity.

     My fingers caught on thin silk. _How very clever, Marjolaine,_ I smiled. _No more resistance than a spider's web. Those who triggered it would not even know what had happened before they were dead._

     "Don't move." I warned. "Marjolaine is quite skilled. I've no idea how many of these she has put in place."

     "Bloody traps." I could feel her frowning. "Forgive me, Leliana, but I think it lacks..."

     "Nobility?" I needled her.

     "As you say." a warning tone.

     "We cannot all be brave knights charging into battle." I grinned, disarming the trap and seeking more. "Fighting for truth and justice and kittens."

     "I fight for kittens now, do I?" Salem laughed and I basked in it.

     My joy faltered as I realized exactly what I had asked her to do before we entered this place. _What wars must she be fighting? What right do I have to ask such things of her? She has no guarantee that I will not go right_ _back into Marjolaine's embrace...and I cannot give that to her. Marjolaine was right to betray me. I would have done the same to her. But,_ I looked back at Salem, at the determination in her eyes, the blistering calm she exuded, _I would rather die than_ _cause her pain. Yet that is all I seem to be doing in this moment._

     "Are we not all kittens in the face of the darkspawn?" I covered my jest. My fingers discovered a pressure plate, cleverly disguised as a loose board. "Blind, helpless, and in need of protection?"

     "Some protector I am." her bitter tone grated. "Can't even find a trap."

     "Even the most skilled eyes would have trouble finding Marjolaine's traps." I tried to comfort her, but those words dragged me back into my darkness. Marjolaine had trained me; molded me in her image...made me ignoble. Everything Salem was not and could never be.

     My fingers found the catch and disabled it, and whatever horrible punishment would accost the unfortunate who triggered the trap.

     "Then I am grateful to have one so skilled at my side." her voice felt warm, a heat that shivered through my toes. She had that power, the ability to make me feel...visible. For someone who had made their life in the shadows, being seen was perhaps the greatest gift I had ever been given.

     "Not as grateful as I am to be there." I whispered, but Salem did not hear.

     "Is your Marjolaine so confident in her traps that she posts no guards?" Salem asked.

     "There are guards." I found two more strands of silk an sliced through them. "Somewhere. Marjolaine prefers quiet. She once killed a duke at a grand ball in Orlais in front of hundreds of people. No one saw or suspected anything."

     "Brazen." Salem breathed. "How many do you think she has?"

     "Two, three at the most." I answered, remembering when I comprised one of those numbers.

     I would have done anything for Marjolaine...had she asked me. But Marjolaine never asked. She ordered, demanded, coerced. She cold not be gentle, though she played at it convincingly. _Not like Salem._ _Her hands are made for greater things than warfare._

     I shivered as I remembered the way my warden's hands touched me. As though I were fragile, breakable...precious. She _felt_ me, took all of me into her, then gave herself back with abandon. No secrets, no ulterior motives. When we made love it was for joy, for comfort, for hope. There was no power play, no quest for dominance.

     "I hope these two or three are not of your caliber." Salem flashed a rare smile. "I fear we wouldn't stand a chance otherwise."

     "Oh, you do not stand any chance at all, little warden." an icy Orlesian accent cut into the room.

     Fear sliced through me as I rose, face to face with my once-love's incinerating eyes. "Marjolaine."

     "Hello, pretty thing." she cooed. "I see you received my message."

     "Your assassins?" Salem asked, folding her arms. Her voice held the chill that had daunted monsters. It made me feel cold. If I did not know the warmth that voice could hold, I would have been terrified. "Yes. We received it."

     "Oh, you are fiery." Marjolaine smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. Why had I never noticed how dead her eyes were? "But you may rest at ease. I knew those troglodytes could never harm my Leliana. 'Twas an invitation, nothing more."

     "We _can_ read." Salem hissed. "A letter would have worked as well."

     Marjolaine gasped in feigned hurt. "I am offended. Such simple methods are, well, beneath me. Besides, my pretty thing and I have quite terrible memories of the written word."

     "Is that what this is about?" I asked, at last able to speak. "Why have you come to Ferelden, Marjolaine?"

     "Why, for you, my pretty thing." Marjolaine moved close and stroked her hand up and down my arm. I heard the chink of armor as Salem's body went rigid. "Did you think I would not keep an eye out for you? I watched you as you left, dragging yourself back to the mud of your homeland. why did you come back, I wondered, and what did you find in the Chantry? Surely this is not the life you wanted for yourself, Leliana. You were made for silks and satins. You sang for kings and wooed princes. Surely you are unhappy in this harsh land that smells perpetually of wet dog."

     "I am Ferelden by birth, Marjolaine." I reminded her. "Perhaps you could rein in your insults."

     "Like you reined them in when the Ferelden 'nobles' deigned to visit Orlais?" she asked, with a slight, calculated chuckle. "Or did we not spend the entire night drinking and ridiculing their clothes and their accents and their laughable attempt at dancing? Well...not the entire night. Your _thirst_ was unquenchable. Tell me, does this giantess at your side provide the pleasure you received from me? Are her oafish, callused hands even capable of nuanced movements?"

     " _Marjolaine_." I hissed, but she laughed.

     "Oh, your warning tone!" she clapped her hands. "Have I made you angry, pretty thing? Have I tried you to your limits? Remember how you once lashed out at me, clawed at me, begged for me to destroy and remake you?"

     I watched Salem as Marjolaine spoke, seeing the warden wince as though every word my former bard-master said struck a physical blow.

     "We know how that ended, Marjolaine." I seethed. "With your knife sticking into my side and my torture in the dungeons of Val Royeaux. Why have you come back?"

     "For you, my Leliana." she sneered. "You know how I hate to leave loose ends un-knotted. Come back to Orlais with me, little nightingale. I have missed your song. I have missed your warmth."

     She drew near to me; I could feel her breath on my neck, cool and...horrible. To think I had once craved her touch, begged for a word of affirmation, slaved for her frigid affection. I cast a desperate glance at Salem, praying to the Maker that she would not hate me.

     "I have not missed you, Marjolaine." I told her, drawing back. "And you want me only for my silence."

     "You are traveling in different circles, pretty thing." Marjolaine's voice turned venomous. "I find you with King Cailan's bastard half-brother, the circle mage closest to the First Enchanter's heart, a vaunted Antivan Crow, and...that," she glanced at Salem, waving a dismissive hand, "...thing."

     I bristled, but she took no notice.

     "These are very powerful people, Leliana. They will lead you down dangerous roads, and abandon you when you require safety. I would not want to see you hurt, my nightingale."

     "The sole one here who would cause Leliana pain is you." Salem growled, at last breaking her silence. "Her time is precious, so stop wasting it."

     "My my my." Marjolaine smiled, but there was no mirth there. "Impatient are we, little warden? You want to take my nightingale from me? Does she sing sweet songs for you? Does she tell you tales of love, play your body like a lute? Everything she is, she borrowed from me. She was mine first, warden, and she will be so again."

     Salem looked at me, but her eyes held no questions, no accusations. They simply begged me to choose. I loved her for that; for her certainty and its kindness.

     "I will not, Marjolaine." I said, proud that my voice remained steady.

     She turned to me and I felt the frost in her gaze. "Leliana, you realize I am giving you only two options. Dying in the arms of your ill-fated warden, or life with me. I am the only ensured safety you possess."

     I gripped the hilt of my dagger. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Salem's body relax. She knew.

     "I shall deal with uncertainty." I claimed.

     Marjolaine's smile turned into a snarl and, once again, the finest bard-master in Orlais drew a blade against me.

 


	3. Vengeance and Venom

**Salem**

     I pulled my swords as Marjolaine drew her blades. The door before us burst open and two heavily armored men rushed into the room. I turned my attention to them, knowing that my plate armor would limit my dexterity and give Marjolaine an edge. Against her, Leliana stood more of a chance...I prayed.

     I dodged the axe aimed for my head and lashed out, my sword colliding with the guard's armor. A gauntleted fist struck the side of my face. I felt skin split and the world went dark for an instant.

     "Salem!" Leliana's scream brought me out of the black.

     I scrabbled to my feet and clutched my sword. My other blade had been knocked away. _Damn it!_ I cursed inwardly, blocking a strike to my torso. I spun the opposite direction of his blow and struck for his neck. The weak blow caught skin...enough to tear his throat open. He fell with a cry that died in a gurgle of blood.

     _Leliana..._ I turned to see her slammed against the door, her blue eyes glazed over and blood streaming down her face. She stumbled, and Marjolaine pulled a stiletto from her boot.

     "Too bad, my pretty thing." she crooned.

     _I will not let anyone harm you_ , I remembered my promise. I could not see the other guard, but all that mattered was Leliana. I was too far away; could not get to her in time.

     I threw my sword at Marjolaine to distract her, then rushed to her and knocked her to the ground.

     "Mindless Ferelden whore!" she screamed, and ice flooded me as her stiletto slipped between the plates of my armor and into my side. Something snapped and I felt the blade's tip grind against my ribs.

     Marjolaine reversed our positions with ease, rolling me onto the ground and straddling me. She struck me across the face, leaned forward, and whispered in my ear. "The blade is stuck in your skin, little warden. And it is poisoned."

     "Get...your... _filthy_...hands...off of her! _Bitch!_ " Leliana shrieked, grasping Marjolaine's hair. She pulled her former mentor's head back and laid her knife against the bitch's throat.

     "Are you going to kill me, pretty thing?" the Orlesian asked. "I do not think you can, Leliana. What is between us...is too strong."

     I pushed myself out from under Marjolaine, finding my sword, ignoring the pain that radiated through my entire body. _I cannot let Leliana know I'm hurt,_ I resolved. _She is in enough pain already. Poison...how long until it runs its course?_

     The remaining guard emerged from the shadows and rushed for Leliana. Marjolaine used the distraction, grabbed my love's wrist, and hurled Leliana over her shoulder. I dove for the guard, knocking him off balance with my blade. Without thought, I rammed my spiked gauntlet into his face. A sickening crack as his nose broke, shoving cartilage and bone into his brain.

     "Salem!" Leliana called out for me.

     I turned and saw her predicament. She lay pinned on the floor, Marjolaine's blade hovering over her heart. My vision hazed with rage and, without thinking, I drove my blade forward. It pierced Marjolaine from behind and she gasped, clutching at her chest. Furious, I wrenched my blade from her body and sheathed it, gritting my teeth against the pain.

     _Her poisoned blade is still inside, against my rib. One wrong movement, it could shift, and my lung will be punctured. Maker, please, let Leliana and I return to camp safely._

     "Leli...ana." Marjolaine croaked.

     She fell to the floor and Leliana caught her, cradling the dying woman in her lap. I retrieved my offhand blade, trying to remain as invisible as possible. This moment belonged to Leliana, and I would not mar it with my presence.

     "Marjolaine." I could hear the tears in her voice and it broke my heart, even as a wave of dizziness washed over me. "Marjolaine...I'm sorry."

     The dying bard reached up and caressed Leliana's cheek, smearing it with blood. "Don't fret, pretty thing. Perhaps...this...is for...the best."

     "I loved you, Marjolaine." Leliana sobbed. "Why could you not love me enough to let me go? Why could you not love me in return?"

     "I did...my nightingale." Marjolaine gasped and blood trickled from between her lips. "In my...own way."

     The bitch died with a smile on her face. I knew the reason. _She smiles only because she thinks she has killed me. If I die, Leliana is wounded by extension...by Marjolaine's hand._

     Leliana rose, covered in her blood and Marjolaine's. Sorrow screamed out from her eyes, but there was also a vague glimmer of peace. "Salem," her voice trembled and her eyes glazed over, "Salem, I need you."

     I crossed to her, ripping the gauntlet from my left hand. I could not risk moving my right arm, lest the blade twist deeper in. "I'm here, love." I assured her, reaching up and inspecting the gash near her temple. "Are you all right?"

     "Shaken." her entire body began to tremble. "But standing."

     "What do you wish to do?" I wondered, looking at the bodies.

     "Marjolaine left me for dead." her voice chilled. "She deserves nothing more than this ignominy."

     "As you say." I murmured, smoothing her tousled hair.

     Leliana's eyes cleared and her fingers brushed the bloodied bruise developing on my cheek. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

     _Fine. There is a knife in my body aimed at my lung and poison running through my blood, but I am unharmed,_ my dark humor took over.

     "No." I lied. "If you're ready, we should get back to camp. The others will be worrying."

     _Wynne, Morrigan, please be there when we arrive. I can feel the poison working already. Leliana...cannot know. She would never forgive herself._

     "Very well." she smiled. "But first things first."

     She went to Marjolaine's bureau and opened it, revealing a beautifully crafted bow. She slung it across her back and looked once more on Marjolaine's corpse.

     "I had it made for her." she explained. "It is only fitting that I should take it back."

     "You love all that you do." I whispered, understanding. "And in giving her an emblem of what you love, you gave her your heart. Take it back, Leliana. It has always been yours."

     "I'm afraid...it might not be...any longer." she offered a tremulous smile. "Let's go home, Salem."

     _Home._ I sighed. _She deserves the_ _roaring fires at Cousland Hall, not a dirty camp in the wilderness with a rag-tag band of would-be heroes. But I know what she means, and I love her for it._

     I followed her out the door, away from the death, feeling blood soak into my shirt with every step.


	4. Grief and Comparison

**Leliana**

    The sun drifted further down in the sky, painting it a bloody shade of red. In Orlais, the sunsets were softer, yet somehow less beautiful. Marjolaine had been right. Ferelden was a harsh land, but stark things could possess great beauty. My years in Lothering had allowed me to see this. Allowed me to appreciate starker beauties. Allowed me to find Salem captivating and lovely.

     I gazed at the warrior walking beside me. Salem. She had been so valiant; unselfish, unwavering, dedicated to me as she was to everything else she loved.

     _But...she killed Marjolaine. Without thought. Without hesitance. Without a glance my way. Part of me...part of me did not wish Marjolaine to die. I had hoped to assuage her fear of betrayal and let her go her own way. Offer her a chance for redemption, the same was given to me._

     Lost in thought, I traced the streets of Denerim with my eyes, missing the gleaming walls and structures of Val Royeaux, the city that had given birth to the bard I became. Mystery and intrigue seeped from the shadows, the ugliness covered with a veneer of gentility. Denerim's ugly secrets were splayed out for all to see, a naked grossness that most went blind to.

     _But not Salem. She sees and feels everything that happens. She was meant to have been a noble, her voice in the king's ear, fighting with words, not swords. She is...too good for me. I was meant for the shadows and the darkness, for secrets and...murder._

     "Salem," I needed to ask something of her, something perhaps harsher than I had when I begged her to let me go. To let me choose.

     _Between her and Marjolaine,_ I shook my head, disgusted with myself, _as if there really existed a choice between them._

     She did not answer.

     "Salem?" I asked, stopping and looking around. The warden leaned against the wall we walked beside, pinching the bridge of her nose and breathing heavily.

     I walked to her and turned her face to mine. Her eyes were distant, unfocused, her pupils larger than normal. "Salem, are you certain you're all right?" I asked.

     I thought she looked pale, but, in the dimming light, I could not be certain of it.

     "I think," she smiled, "I think that blow to the head was harder than I thought."

     "Is that all?" I questioned, unsatisfied with her answer.

     "I took a few rather nasty strikes." she explained. "I'm expecting some horrible bruises."

     I wanted to trust her explanation, but was afraid to. _Salem is not Marjolaine._ I tried to convince myself. _She has no reason to deceive me._

     Still not satisfied, I frowned. "You look pale."

     "Leli, I took an iron gauntlet to the face. I am dizzy and nauseated. Other than that, perfectly all right." she pushed away from the wall and began walking again.

     "I just..." I hastened after her and tried to explain, "I worry about you, Salem."

     She smiled and her left hand slipped into mine and squeezed it, imparting comfort. "I know. I'm fine, Leliana."

     I pulled my hand from hers, not wishing to attract attention. Such things were common in Val Royeaux, but Ferelden was still finding her feet as a country, and anything vaguely Orlesian was despised.

     _I would ruin her chance at taking her place among the Ferelden nobility._ I thought, dreaming into a future where Salem could shed the duties of a warden and take up her family's mantle. _What can I offer her? Nothing. At least, with Marjolaine, I was use_ _ful; a help rather than a hindrance._

     "What's troubling you?" Salem asked, sensing my unease.

     "Nothing, I..." my voice caught in my throat... _I am too cruel..._ "I simply need some time to think. If you can spare me that."

     "Anything you ask. As soon as we are safely back at camp, you may take all the time you wish."

     "Thank you, Salem." I had never been given a requested moment's peace with Marjolaine. If ever she desired anything, it was granted without thought.

     _I wish Marjolaine had been given a chance to find someone like Salem for herself. Someone that would make her wish to become a better person. Instead, my once-lover died at the hands of...someone I love. Dear Maker, no bard would even dare pen this tale for fear of disbelief._

     The two of us made it through the gates of Denerim without incident, for which I breathed a sigh of relief. I supposed people beaten and covered in blood was a normal sight in this conflicted country.

     "How does your head feel?" Salem asked as we picked out way through the copse of trees that hid our camp from the city patrols.

     "It is not as bad as it looks." I placated her. "Nothing I cannot remedy on my own. Dear Wynne need not be bothered."

     Her eyes drifted away, deep in thought. I wondered what those thoughts were. How must Salem have felt, watching me hold Marjolaine as she died...how she must have regretted loving me as I wept over the death of one who had betrayed me.

     _Now that I consider it, I have never seen Salem shed tears. Not even when she told me of her family's murder. Even when waking from her nightmares, her eyes are dry. She carries the burden of the world on her shoulders. Even Alistair gave his responsibility to her. He is the senior warden, yet she is the one we follow. How...how cruel of me to ask her to shoulder my burdens as well. I truly am no better than Marjolaine._

     We reached the outskirts of camp and Salem turned to me. "You should wash away the blood and get some rest, dear heart." she whispered.

     I knew I had asked to be alone, but I needed... _no, I want_...her beside me. "Salem..."

     "Yes?"

     _No. I will not ask any more from her than she has already given. I cannot._ "It's nothing."

     "As you say." her smile was strained and it broke my heart.

     She placed a feather-light kiss on my forehead and walked towards Morrigan's tent. Tears filled my eyes once more. But I did not know who I cried for.


	5. Prognosis

**Salem**

     I took stock of the camp when I arrived. Alistair had not returned from Denerim; neither had Zevran. And neither, _damn it_ , had Wynne.

     Burrow, my mabari, raced up to me, tongue lolling out, stub of a tail wagging. I gave him a pat on the head and he whimpered, able to smell the blood. I looked into his intelligent eyes and tried to smile.

     "Do me a favor, boy?"

     He yipped.

     "Go to Denerim. Find Wynne. You remember Wynne, right?"

     He barked twice and danced in a circle.

     "Good boy." I said, thanking him as he raced away from the camp.

     _I am g_ _lad you survived the massacre Burrow. Please find Wynne, soon. Right now, I have no one to help me but Morrigan._

     I found the witch absorbed in Flemeth's grimmoire. She glanced up and her feral golden eyes captured mine. "I see you've returned." she drawled. "How did your errand of love turn out?"

     I smiled at her mockery. It had grown gentler, at least towards me, as though her tongue had lost its bladed edge. "Well enough, for Leliana. Not so well for me. I need your help, Morrigan."

     " _My_ help?" she gestured to herself with an elegant hand. "Whatever can I aid you with that Leliana cannot?"

     "Please, Morrigan." I almost begged as I stumbled. My vision blurred and her features morphed until I could no longer make them out. I blinked rapidly and my eyesight cleared.

     "Oh, very well." the witch stuffed the grimmoire back into her satchel and followed me to my tent.

     Once inside, I pulled off my gauntlets and attempted to undo the straps of my breastplate, but my right arm refused to move. "Morrigan, can you..."

     "I suppose." she sighed, coming closer and helping me disentangle myself from the heavy plates of metal. "Whatever have you gotten yourself into, Salem?"

     "Trouble." I winced.

     Relief flooded me as Morrigan removed my armor and its weight. As my chest plate came off, she hissed. "This happened in Denerim, I take it?" she asked, looking at the scarlet stain on my shirt.

     "It did." I replied, not wanting to look down at the blood-soaked mess. "I took the blade for Leliana."

     "Of course you did." Morrigan made a noise of disapproval. "What did you need me for, exactly? You have known from the first that I have no skill with healing."

     "The blade is still inside." my balance wavered and Morrigan caught me as I swayed, helping me to my bedroll and easing me onto it, cushioning my head on a folded blanket. "It's poisoned."

     "What did you expect from an Orlesian bard?" Morrigan asked, acid in her tone. "They poison more than tea, you know."

     I smiled, in too much pain to laugh. "I know you have skills with herbs. Do you think you can tell me what sort of poison was used?"

     "Perhaps," she mused, "if I remove the blade. But, even if I am able to decipher what poison she used, that does not mean I can distill an antidote in time."

     I nodded, acknowledging what she did not say with words. "I sent Burrow to find Wynne."

     Morrigan pulled a small dagger from her belt and sliced through my blood-drenched shirt. "Between Wynne and myself, we might actually pull you through this, you fool."

     "Thank you, Morrigan."

     She flinched, as she always did when I showed gratitude. Somehow, it still surprised her, even though we had traveled together for quite some time.

     "'Tis quite a mess, Salem." she examined the wound. "And 'twill be very painful when I pull the blade."

     "Do whatever you need to, Morrigan." I trusted the witch. We had managed to form something of a friendship during our time together.

     "Save for informing Leliana, am I correct?" Morrigan smiled the smile of a cat with a bird in its mouth.

     "She can't know." worry flooded through my system and my heart skipped a painful beat. "Please...please do not tell her."

     Morrigan rose and smoothed her skirts. "Very well. I must go and retrieve some of Wynne's supplies. Lie down and keep still. Since you are alive, I am willing to assume that this poison, whatever it is, is slow moving. 'Tis very little luck in this situation, but it is something."

     Morrigan left and I closed my eyes, wincing as the blade embedded in my body scraped against my rib once more. I closed my eyes and whispered a prayer.

     _Maker, please, keep me safe. And give...give Leliana the peace she's waited so long for._

     "Open your eyes." Morrigan hissed as the tent flap fluttered. "'Twill do you no good to succumb to exhaustion."

     I opened my eyes to find my vision blurred once again. _Damn it._ The witch knelt beside me and her hands felt like ice as they probed the edges of the blade that protruded from my body.

     "'Tis barbed." she told me. "This Marjolaine is quite skilled in the art of suffering." her voice held admiration.

     "Just pull it out." I pleaded.

     "Bite down on this." Morrigan placed a folded cloth between my teeth. "I'm quite certain you would not desire your little bard to hear you screaming. It might break her fragile heart."

     _That,_ I thought, _was uncalled for._

     I sensed her magic before I felt it, probing at the edges of my skin, reaching in and fastening around the blade. _I wish Wynne were here._

     "Are you ready?" Morrigan asked.

     Before I could given consent, she used her magic to rip the knife out. I screamed as fire raced through my blood. The whole of my side felt as though it had been flayed and rubbed with salt. I fought to keep my body still, but it did not obey. My back arched and my legs spasmed, but Morrigan's hand in the center of my chest stilled me.

     "'Tis better to have this done quickly." Morrigan said. "I took the liberty of borrowing Oghren's whiskey. I am certain he will not mind when we tell him what you purposed it for."

     _Oh, Maker. An angry dwarf and a stab wound_ , I thought before the witch splashed the liquid into the injury. I bit down hard on the cloth and screamed again; tasted blood in the back of my throat.

     "I'm finished." Morrigan announced as she pressed bandages against the wound. "You had best pray to your Maker that the hound finds Wynne quickly. Can you sit?"

     I blinked the sweat from my eyes and nodded. Morrigan helped me rise and I spat the gag out, trying to even my breathing. Black spots danced before my eyes and I leaned on Morrigan's shoulder for support. She wrapped more bandages around my torso and eased me back onto my bedroll.

     "Breathe slowly." she advised, lifting the blade and examining it.

     Its design was cruel, thin, sharp, and barbed, as Morrigan had said. Built like an arrowhead or a harpoon, it had been intended to cause damage upon entry, and worse upon exit. Cruel.

     She sniffed the blade; touched it to her lips. "Well," she sighed, "'tis a rare enough compound in Orlais. Fortunately, here in Ferelden it is quite a common blend. As are the ingredients for the antidote. However, we are too close to the city to find them. I will have to leave for a while."

     "Go, then." I attempted to smile. "I'll be all right."

     "I do not think you will." Morrigan rested her hand against my forehead and frowned. "You're feverish. Leliana should be told, Salem. She and Marjolaine are cut from the same ridiculous Orlesian silk. She will have some skill in the treatment of poisons."

     "Please...don't...tell her." I whispered as my eyelids fell.

     The flap of my tent opened and I heard the words "... _altruistic fool._ "


	6. Devotion's Consequences

**Leliana**

     I scrubbed my face and hands clean in the stream that ran beside our camp. No matter how much the soothing water cleansed my skin, I felt that nothing would ever remove Marjolaine's blood from my hands.

 _Even though I did not strike the fatal blow_.

     I looked at my reflection in the water, lit by the setting sun's last rays. _I look nothing like Marjolaine. But she resides in me, her teachings, her beliefs...her betrayal._

     My hand went to the scar on my side, the memory of the wound Marjolaine had inflicted, the truth of our relationship that had led me to Ferelden. _And, by extension, to Salem. Salem, who went first to the witch's tent. Why would she seek Morrigan out?_

     I rose and returned to camp. Burrow, Salem's mabari, was nowhere to be seen. I felt somehow rejected. Most often, the dog would greet my return with as much enthusiasm as he showed his owner.

     "Hey there, sister." Oghren greeted me. He stood next to the fire on wobbly legs and smiled through his moustaches. "Haven't seen a bottle of whiskey 'round here have ya?"

     I tried to smile, in spite of the questions still running through my mind at a frenetic pace. At least one thing remained normal. "I'm afraid I haven't."

     "Sod it." the dwarf grumbled, ruffling through his packs.

     I turned from the dwarf, struck something, and fell. My head ached, my sore muscles protested and I looked up, cringing as I saw Morrigan's golden eyes peering down at me, amused.

     "Oh, Morrigan, I'm sorry." an apology fell from my lips. "Are you all right?"

     "Far better than you, little songstress." Morrigan extended a hand, surprising me.

     Such a gesture was quite unlike her. She would have aided Salem, and perhaps Wynne, but, when she was not insulting me with utmost disdain, she tended to ignore my existence entirely.

     I took the witch's hand and she helped me to my feet. "Morrigan..." I disliked asking questions of her, but I needed to know, "...have you seen Salem? We returned together, and I saw her..."

     "She came only to ask a question about Genitivi's research." Morrigan assured me. "But I could make neither head nor tail of it."

     _Of course,_ my lips quivered and I tried to hide it with a smile, _Salem would immerse herself in work._ "Thank you, Morrigan." I turned and started towards my tent.

     "'Tis possible you could help her, what with your knowledge of Andraste and the Chantry." Morrigan said from behind me. "I think it would be in our best interest to decipher his research sooner, as opposed to the alternative."

     _Morrigan...encouraging me to see Salem. She has done nothing but mock the warden and myself for our relationship. Why now does she...something is wrong._

     "Perhaps I can be of assistance." I allowed, changing direction. "I...thank you, Morrigan."

     "'Tis no trouble but a passing thought." she smiled, seeming almost conniving. "Good night, songstress."

     "Good...night?" I replied, bewildered by her behavior.

     I lifted the flap of Salem's tent, hesitant. I expected to see her bent over Genitivi's papers, cursing as she attempted to decipher them. Instead, I saw my warden's normal order in disarray, her armor tossed uncaringly on the ground.

     _It smells like blood,_ panic invaded my mind. I glanced at Salem's bedroll, saw her lying there, pale as death.

     "Salem." I imagined it as a cry, but her name emerged in a whisper. "Salem?" a little louder. She did not stir.

     I rushed to her side, knelt, and placed my hand against her cheek. Her skin was sweat-sheened, radiating heat. The bruise on her cheek looked almost black against her pallor, and dark circles nested underneath her eyes.

     "Salem? Love?" I asked, praying for her eyes to open.

     _Morrigan knew,_ I realized. _Salem must have asked her for help...and told her not to inform me. Why, Salem?_ I asked, knowing she could not answer. _Why would you not tell me? I knew, I **knew** that something was wrong back in Denerim. __Why did I not press the issue? Oh, my warden, what has Marjolaine done to you?_

     I touched my fingers to her throat. Slow, irregular pulses beat against my skin. Her breath rasped.

     "Salem?" I said her name again. "Salem, please, wake up. Please, love," my lips began to tremble, "please."

     She stirred, muttered something, and shifted. Pain creased her brow and my heart hammered against my chest. "How did this happen?" I wondered aloud, begging the Maker for some sign, some knowledge. "How did I not realize?"

     "L...Leliana?" Salem's voice was soft, hoarse...not natural.

     "I'm here." I smoothed her hair back. "By your side."

     "What?" her eyes opened, an over-bright, fevered blue. "No...did...did Morrigan tell you? That bitch!"

     Salem sat up abruptly, crying out and clutching her side. I wrapped my arms around her and held her close, forcing her to lie back down. Blood covered her shirt and stained the bandages on her side.

     "Morrigan told me you were doing research!" I could not keep the anger out of my voice. True, fear fueled it, but all I felt in this moment was rage. "She said that I should help you! How could you not tell me, Salem!?"

     "Didn't...want...to hurt you." she gasped, and I forced my anger away. Salem needed care, not accusations. There would be time for that later.

     _I hope._

     "I'm all right." I lied. "Tell me what happened?"

     "Marjolaine." Salem swallowed. "She...had you...pinned. I saw the knife. I couldn't...couldn't fathom...losing you."

     _You idiot! I mean nothing in the grand scheme of things! **You** are im_ _portant, **you** must stop the Blight! How dare you be so foolish, how **dare**_ _you!?_

     "You fool." I leaned forward and kissed her forehead, wincing at her temperature.

     I glanced down and the gleam of steel caught my eye. I reached for the blade and lifted it to the candlelight.

     _She loved this knife; the damage it could do, the cruelty of its design. Marjolaine intended to use this on me...again._

     I caught a familiar scent, sniffed the blade, and felt tears prick my eyes. This could not be happening. Not to Salem. I could not bear it.

     I cast the knife aside and turned my attention to my warden. She tried to smile, but it turned into a pained grimace. I lifted the bandages to inspect the wound. The blade had gone deep and been withdrawn roughly. What was worse, deep indigo lines radiated out from the puncture, spreading in spidering lines across her skin.

     Salem reached a trembling hand out towards me. I took hers in mine and pressed my lips to it. Her fingers were frigid.

     "What troubles you?" she asked.

     "You've been poisoned." I answered. "With Andraste's Flames." I coughed out a laugh. "It is called such because, as it spreads, the victim feels as though they're burning alive. Strangely enough, it is made from the stems of Andraste's Grace."

     _Stop rambling, Leliana. She is in no condition to listen to this._

     "Your...favorite...flower?" Salem asked, raising an eyebrow in the way that always made me chuckle. This time, however, I could not summon mirth.

     "Yes." I answered. "It makes a lovely perfume and a deadly poison. Funny, no?"

     "Hysterical." her dark humor presented itself once more, as it always did in difficult situations.

     "Leliana," her voice became serious, "you...you should not be forced to see me like this. Morrigan says she can...find an antidote. I sent Burrow to find Wynne. I will...be all right."

     _I do not believe you. I cannot believe you. You deceived me, Salem. I know now that I love you more than anything and you did not even trust me enough to tell me that you had been injured. Do not push me away, my love, I beg of you._

     "You have no right to ask me to leave you." I told her, very strict. I rose to my feet. "I will return."

     "Leliana," she called after me, weak, "please...forgive me."

     The words tore my heart open. I fled from the tent, grabbed a pitcher from the fireside, and walked to the stream.

     _Andraste's flames._ Tears spilled from my eyes. _Slow moving, lethal, causes hemorrhaging_ _and excruciating pain...so much pain that you wish you were dead. Marjolaine taught me to use it...for torture. It would break a person far sooner than any conventional method._

     "Salem." her name broke on a sob. "Maker, please, keep her alive. I cannot lose her too."

     I filled the pitcher and walked back to Salem's tent, trying to keep my hands from shaking.

     _I cannot lose her too._


	7. Fevered Dreaming

**Salem**

_I walk the streets, greeting passersby, headed towards the imposing ramparts of Cousland Hall. My mother meets me in the courtyard, smiling. It quickly turns to a frown.  
_

_"Salem, did you forget?"  she asks. "Arl Howe and his son will be here soon and you're covered in blood and sweat!"_

_"You're welcome, mother." I place a kiss on her cheek. "The hunt went well, thank you for asking."_

_She tries to suppress a smile; fails. "Off with you, ruffian. Get washed and dressed, **immediately**."_

_"I cannot wear this?" I gesture to my armor._

_"Of course not!" she exclaims, before she realizes that I ask in jest. "You are your father's daughter, Salem. And my ever-present trial."_

_"I love you too, mother." I smile. "And that is why you had two children. One for a mother's joy, one for her sorrow."_

_"So the saying goes. Off with you!"_

_I laugh and dash up the steps to the great hall, headed for my room. My nephew comes running down the stairs, a giant smile on his face._

_"Aunt Salem!" he exclaims, jumping into my arms, unheeding of the mess. I hold him at arm's length, knowing both my mother and Orianna will kill me if I stain his clothes._

_"Oren!" I spin him around the room before setting him on his feet._

_"Did the hunt go well?" he asks, aglow with excitement. "Did you catch anything?"_

_I ruffle his hair. "Of course we did." I smile. "Couslands never come back empty-handed."_

_Fergus' son puffs his chest out with pride. I smile, admiring how much he looks like my brother. "'Course they do. Tell me everything, please, Aunt Salem. Pleeeeease."  
_

_"Tell you what." I go to my knees and stand eye to eye with him. "I will tell you everything after dinner with Arl Howe. But, if I don't leave now and get dressed, your grandmother will flay me just like the boar we caught."_

_"All right!" he exclaims. "Promise?"_

_"I promise." he leaves and I continue to my room, undoing the straps on my armor as I go._

_I rinse my face in the washbasin, enjoying the cool water on my sun-burned skin. **Arl Howe,** I think, **I do not like that man. I like less the designs he has on my as-yet unwed status.** I shiver. **While Amaranthine is beautiful, I could not bear taking the name Howe to rule it. Perish the** **thought.**_

_A knock at the door._

_"Enter." I call._

_"Salem?" an Antivan accent. "Your mother sent me with a gown for you to wear."_

_"Come in, Orianna." I smile at my sister-in-law. I often wonder how she traded the beauties and comforts of Antiva to come to this foundling country._

_She enters my room, holding an exquisite dress. I know immediately that it is from her wardrobe. I would never wear something with so many...ruffles._

_"This color will look lovely on you." she holds the gown out to me. "It will complement your hair and make your eyes sing."_

_"Th..." I wince at the ruffles, "...thank you."_

_"If you don't want to wear it," her accent shifts, changes, deepens, "you should wake up."_

_"What?" I ask, bewildered._

_"Wake up, Salem. Please."_

_"Orianna, what are you talking about? This is..."_

_"You are dreaming, Salem. Please, wake up."_

* * *

     "Salem?" I woke up from the pleasant blur of the dream. "Salem, are you awake? Are you with me?"

     "I was home." I whispered. My throat felt as though it had been scoured raw. "Everyone...was alive. Leliana?"

     "Of course." her hand soothed my brow. "Who else would it be?"

     _You should not see this,_ my throat tightened with grief. _I do not want to hurt you. I wanted to take away Marjolaine's power to cause you pain. Instead, I've only poured salt in your wounds._

     "My eyes...are not working properly." I confessed. "Everything is...blurred." I reached out, trying to find her, to connect with her, to cement my existence in this world.

     She took my hand in hers and kissed it. "Do not move too much." she advised. "You've lost a great deal of blood and are very weak."

     "I apologize." I tried to smile, for her sake. "But...why can't I see?"

     "That would be the poison." she could not hide the anguish in her tone. "Andraste's Flames is known to cause blindness, in some cases."

     _Oh, Maker no._ "Permanently?" I had to ask. I hated myself as I did, but I needed the answer.

     "I am afraid so." her voice was clipped, without emotion. Not Leliana.

     _I cannot lose my sight!_ My heart beat faster, sending painful spasms across my body. _There is still so much yet to do! Arl Eamon's life depends on me. **Ferelden** depends on me. What if...what if...what if I never get to drown in her blue eyes again?_

     "Leli..." my voice broke as my breath caught and I began coughing, feeling as though shards of glass cut into my throat.

     "Salem!" she exclaimed.

     I felt strong, warm hands on my shoulders, hoisting me up until the paroxysm passed. I gasped, trying to catch my breath, and Leliana held a cup of water to my lips.

     "Drink." she ordered.

     I obeyed, wondering why the water tasted of copper. I lay back down, exhausted. A cool cloth was placed across my brow by trembling hands.

     "Leliana?"

     "Hush, love." her voice was strained. "Please don't talk. Please."

     _What? Maker's breath, does my voice now cause her pain? Leli, please forgive me. I never meant for this to happen. You were not meant to know. This was never intended to touch you._

     "Wh...what's wrong?" I asked.

     "Your bandages are soaked." she did not answer. "The poison is staving off your body's ability to heal. It is making the bleeding worse as well."

     I felt her hands on me and savored her touch even in the bleakest of circumstances. Gentle, she removed the bandages and replaced them, wrapping them so tightly I feared my ribs would break.

     "I know it's unpleasant." she comforted me. "But I must try to stop the bleeding."

     "You did not," I took a difficult, shallow inhale, "answer my question. What...is...wrong?"

     Her movement stopped and her hair shielded her eyes. _No,_ I begged, _please don't hide from me. Not now. Not ever. I love you._

     "The poison is in your lungs." she whispered. "They're bleeding now, too. You're coughing blood, Salem."


	8. Self-Recrimination

**Leliana**

     _How could I not have known?_ I berated myself in the silence. Salem's last fit of coughing had exhausted her, and she slept now. Fine tremors worked their way through her body as the poison took effect.  _I have used Andraste's Flames. I know, I **know** the symptoms and the signs. But I remained blind. Willingly. Because of my pain, _I brushed Salem's sweat-soaked hair away from her forehead,  _I did not acknowledge yours. I could have prevented all of this from happening. But no. I wanted my peace; I wanted **my** resolution. And just like Marjolaine...I used the person I knew would follow me through hell and into eternity._

     I glanced at Salem's armor, strewn on the ground, standing like a monument to the dead. _There was no visible blood from the wound,_ I tried to justify my ignorance. _The knife kept her from bleeding too heavily, and what blood ther_ _e was soaked into her shirt. Still,_ guilt nagged at me, _I should have interrogated her mercilessly u_ _ntil she opened her stubborn mouth._

     Tears slipped from my eyes and fell on Salem's hand, the hand intertwined with mine. I had no right to touch her, having hurt her in so many ways. However, I needed the contact, the warmth of her fevered skin, to keep me from falling completely to shards.

     "I have no right," I whispered, "to ask for your forgiveness, Salem. That blade, that poison, was meant for me. You have all of Thedas resting on your shoulders; I had no right to ask that you aid me. I should have dealt with Marjolaine as bards have ever handled their enemies. Alone."

     "Leliana." Salem squeezed my hand. "You're a fool."

     "You heard that?" I gasped, suddenly ashamed. "Salem, I am sorry."

     "Not...your fault." she turned a pained grimace into a faint smile.

     _Even through her pain, she smiles for me. How does this bring me only sorrow?_

     "Shhhh. Rest now." I urged, not wanting her to deplete what little strength she had.

     We both knew the stakes. She had poison rushing through her veins, a high fever, blood filling her lungs, and a deep wound in her side that would not cease bleeding.

     "Tell me," her breath rustled as she inhaled and I winced, "a story. To pass...the time."

     My heart lurched in my chest. "Very well." I smiled, ashamed that it wavered. Here she was, being impossibly brave while I shook apart with fear inside. "What would you like to hear?"

     "Anything. So long...as it's...your voice."

     _I do not deserve you,_ I thought for what seemed the thousandth time.

     I let my fingers drift over the sharp lines of her features, biting my lip at her temperature, worried by the dangerous pallor of her skin.

     "Upon a time gone past," I began, "there dwelt a singer of songs. Some said she was beautiful, and sought to court her, praying to the Maker for her smile, or glance, or even an accidental touch. Yet for all this attention, she felt very much alone in the world. So she found beauty in songs, company in stories, and began to craft these into a mask to hide behind, so that she might remain comfortably alone, in peace." I swallowed the lump in my throat, wondering why I tortured myself.

     _Let me share your anguish, Salem. Please, Maker, give me the wounds that should have been mine from the first._

     "But then one day, as the shy singer paraded facelessly in front of yet another crowd, she saw someone who made all the music fade. Stories lost their meanings and all eloquent poetry seemed as trite nothings in the face of this angel. Her hair cascaded like a waterfall of midnight, her eyes shone like a thousand glittering stars, and her voice...her voice tamed lions with a whisper. The songstress stepped away from her lyre, away from her mask, and dove into the arms and heart of this wonder, this magic, this goddess with no divinity."

     I looked down at Salem; saw understanding in her eyes. She knew the story I told. It could be found in no tales written by ancient men. It was not a legend passed down from generation to generation.

     "The goddess, pleased with the self-made sacrifice, took the songstress under her wing, and named her Nightingale. She taught her little bird everything. The mating call, the warning bell, the sweetest song of silence. To the girl who had lived alone, learning to become one with the shadows seemed a jest, seduction but another clever mask, crafted with ease. All she desired was to shine in her goddess' light, to earn a smile, or nod, or wink. And she was rewarded, for good or ill, with kisses or blows. With each she grew, until her light could have rivaled that of the one she had come to love; the one who had carelessly, heedlessly, enslaved her."

     I paused, feeling Salem's hand grip mine tighter. "Leliana..." she managed to gasp my name before she started coughing, deep racking spasms that made her cry out with pain.

     I held her, watching blood drip from her lips, listening to the sounds of her agonized gasps. I held water to her lips, letting her cleanse the taste of copper and salt from her mouth.

     "Salem?" I asked, concerned. There had been more blood this time. Her chest strained more with each breath. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, even as she shivered with chills. "Salem, love, are you in," I needed to know, though the answer would torture me, "very much pain?"

     "I'm dying." Salem whispered, but the words struck me like an ogre's fist.

     "No." I forced her eyes to mine, praying she had not yet lost her sight. "Do not say a thing like that _ever again_. You are a noble, a warden, and...and the woman I love. You are too strong for some flea like Marjolaine to bring you down."

     "You were telling me a story." Salem smiled as she lay back down, but she refused to retract her statement. I could not ask her to. Both of us knew she spoke the truth.

     _Thank you, my love. Thank you for distracting me with this ridiculous request._

     I took a deep breath and continued. "The goddess named her nightingale her equal, and together they build a name that crept out from the shadows and struck fear in the hearts of those who sat on precarious perches of power. The songstress reveled in her new-found power and love, drinking deep of life and damning all consequences. Trust was given only to one." _She said she_ _would be everything for me. She lied._ "But a fork in the road came, where the goddess was forced to choose between the nightingale and her own life. She betrayed the songstress with a kiss and a blade between the ribs. The nightingale's feathers were plucked, songs replaced by screams, music torn from her hands by tortures so extreme they cannot be named." I fell silent, awash in memories too terrible to recount.

     "What...happened...next?" Salem jarred me from those memories, her voice so gentle I wished to weep.

     "The nightingale at last healed enough to fly from her captors. She fled to a land where music had been choked out by war, where death and destruction had reigned for many a year. She foreswore love even as she craved it. So the nightingale hid away in a great house, where she loved an invisibility that called itself a god. She thought that if her lover had no face and no form, that she would never be betrayed, yet never be alone. And, for a time, she desired nothing else."

     _Until my vision. Until I saw eyes like my own that carried me out of my darkness and fears and exposed me to the sun. Your words reawakened a heart long cold, dearest Salem. I owe you much more than my life, many times over._

     I opened my mouth to continue when the tent flap moved. My hand went to my dagger, waiting. A stooped form with white hair entered my vision and a silent cry of thanks filled my heart.

     "Wynne!" I rushed to her, taking her in a fierce embrace, sobbing unashamedly into her shoulder.

     "Burrow came to me in Denerim, dripping wet and half-mad with insistence." Wynne said. "Leliana, what is wrong? Why are you crying, child?"

     "Salem." I wept. "She's been injured and poisoned."

     Wynne patted my shoulder. "Is she conscious?"

     I nodded, too overcome to speak.

     "Good. I need you to go outside while I examine her. Do this for me?" asked the senior enchanter.

     "O...of course." I replied, sick at the thought of leaving Salem, despite knowing she was in the best of care.

     "Good, my dear." she smiled. "I can see this vigil has tired you. Now go. The others will be arriving soon and they will need to know what is happening. Do keep Alistair from a madcap rush." she looked at Salem and her brow creased. "Disturbing her is...inadvisable."

     I nodded, squeezing Wynne's hand in gratitude before I left. Burrow rushed up to me, then sat at my feet and gave a mournful whimper.

     I knelt down and scratched between his ears. "I know, boy." I whispered. "I know."


	9. Worth the Risks

**Salem**

     I swallowed grief and closed my eyes as Leliana collapsed in Wynne's arms. She had done her best to keep me from seeing it, but I knew that remaining with me in this condition has put her under a terrible strain. 

      _It is why I did not want you to know, dear heart._

     Wynne ushered Leliana out of my tent and walked to me. I could sense the disapproval flowing from her. I laughed with what little breath I had left, knowing I would receive a stern, kindly lecture.

     Ever professional, the senior enchanter knelt down beside me. She rested her hand against my forehead and frowned.

     "What happened, Salem?" she asked.

     "Leliana and I," I swallowed, "confronted Marjolaine. Leli got pinned down. I knocked Marjolaine out of the way...she had a knife."

     Wynne pulled down the blanket Leliana had laid over me. I shivered, even in the warm air. "And she used it on you." Wynne surmised, pulling a healer's blade from her satchel and cutting through the bandages. Her eyes were sympathetic, but her mouth set in a thin line.

     "The wound is indeed poisoned, and more than likely infected." Wynne said. "And, let us be honest, it is a wound you should not have."

     "Are you saying I should have let Leliana take the blade?" I asked, becoming angry, even though I had expected her words. "Are you saying..." the question caught in my throat and I coughed, feeling sick as blood filled my mouth.

     Wynne helped me lift my head, her hands steady and sure. I spat blood onto the ground and began coughing again, struggling to breathe through the paroxysm. It eased and I held my breath, dreading the pain of the next inhale.

     "Breathe, Salem." Wynne ordered and I obeyed.

     I knew that soon, she would be forced to use her magic, and I dreaded it. I had never known why, but a healer's touch had always brought with it an excruciating pain, worse than the injury it mended. I feared that if she were to cast a spell, no matter the good it might do, it might bring more pain than I could bear.

     I allowed myself to inhale, regretting it immediately. "Are you saying," I continued my question, "that my life is worth more than hers?"

     "I have said exactly that before, and I am saying it now." Wynne's voice was tight.

     "You're wrong." I whispered. 

     My father had drilled into me the innate essence of leadership and nobility. He had taught me everything I needed to know of power and its use.

      _Remember, pup, you're no better than the ones who serve under you. In fact, they are the ones who craft your successes or your failures. Therefore, place no hardship on them that you would not first carry yourself. Do not let them bleed for you when your blood could be shed. Do you understand me, Salem?_

     The eager child had said yes, with enthusiasm and a single-minded desire to live up to my family's noble name. It was later that I realized the gravity of the burden my father had placed upon me.  

     "I am not wrong, warden." Wynne's words were laced with wisdom. "In case you have forgotten, I feel obligated to remind you that there is a Blight. There is an archdemon to defeat, and you are the only one who can do that."

     "Alistair."

     Wynne placed her hand over the hole in my side and healing magic flowed in. I cried out as my muscles spasmed of their own volition and I felt as though ten-thousand fire ants swarmed through my blood, biting deep into my veins and organs. The wave of her magic left me breathless and sweating.

     "We both know that the very notion is ridiculous." Wynne took advantage of my inability to speak. "Alistair is a competent fighter, a good man, and a good warden. There is no doubt in my mind that he will make a fair and just king, should that be the road taken, but he is not the man meant to lead us through a Blight."

     I recalled Alistair's state of mind after losing Duncan and the men at Ostagar. How he had been beside himself with worry as I lay healing in Flemeth's hut. As loathe as I was to admit it, Wynne spoke true. He was not ready to take leadership of our strange, dysfunctional family of sorts.

     "You may be right," I managed to speak, "about Alistair. But you are still wrong about Leliana."

     An _angry_ wave of magic ripped through my body. My back arched as I screamed. Wynne's hands were fire against my injury, healing it even as she exacted what little was left of my strength.

     "You cannot risk your life to save any of us." Wynne insisted, as she had when Leliana and I began to walk a path separate from the quest to end the Blight. "Love is a beautiful emotion, and what makes this life worth the living, but sacrifices must be made, Salem. You know that as well as I."

     I grasped Wynne's wrist as I sensed power building around her hands. "I would have done this," I clenched my teeth as she whispered a soft incantation, "for _any_ of you. Alistair, Zevran, Oghren, Leliana, Sten, Shale, you, and Morrigan. I would put myself in this position...for any of you."

     Wynne shook her head, but I could sense a smile playing on her lips. "I had hoped you would be a good counterbalance for Leliana." she spoke. "But it would seem you have just as foolish and romantic notions as she."

     "That is how we," I winced as my body caught fire with the magic flowing through it, "bear the burdens at hand. Thank the Maker you're here, Wynne."

     "Why do you say that, child?" she asked, reminding me so much of my mother that I wanted to weep.

     "For balance." I tried to smile, but was not sure if my body obeyed me.

     Wynne held a cup to my lips. "Drink this." she urged. "It will ease the pain as the magic works. This is a grievous injury, Salem. Healing magic cannot eradicate poison. You are still in a rather precarious position. All we can do now is pin our hopes on Morrigan's antidote."

     _And were we anyone but who we are, the very notion would be ridiculous. But I have faith in our feral witch. She will come through._

     I finished Wynne's draught and she set the vial aside. "Try to rest, Salem." she urged. "Let the magic work."

     "Wynne," I breathed as my eyes closed, "please, take care of Leliana."

     "No, Salem." her hand stroked through my hair. "That is for you to do. I am simply here to assure that you continue in that capacity. Rest well, warden."


	10. The Agony of Passing Time

**Leliana**

     I paced outside Salem's tent, my wish to be with her nearly overriding the mage's orders. _Wynne will take care of her. All I will serve as is a distraction, which neither of them need._

     "Hello, Leliana." Alistair called to me from the fire, where he stood arguing with the straps of his armor. "Fancy giving a friend a hand?"

     _Something. Anything to distract me from my thoughts._ I walked over and assisted him with the leather and buckles. "Are you just getting back?" I asked.

     He nodded. "Yes. I tried visiting Goldana again. She still wants nothing to do with me. It's horrible really. I find a blood relative who isn't a king and they want nothing to do with me; only want to talk about how much I owe them. I've got nephews..."

     "They'll all be dukes of Ferelden someday." I tried to comfort him with a smile. "Goldana will come around, Alistair. I'm certain she's missed having family in her life."

     "Do you really think so?" the insecure future king asked, looking very much like a lost puppy.

     "I do." I told him the truth. "I know how very much I still miss my mother, though I scarcely remember her."

     "I thought we were family now." he patted me on the shoulder. "Which reminds me, how did you fare in Denerim? With Marjorie...Margarine..."

     "Marjolaine." my face fell. "She is...no longer a worry in my life."

     "Oh." his awkwardness took over and he looked at the ground, kicking at it with his boot. "I'm...sorry."

     _I cannot say it is all right. It is not. The wound is still too fresh. Wounds,_ I glanced back at the tent. _Salem...please be all right._

     "Do not concern yourself with my problems." I told him. "The last thing I need is more of you carrying my burdens."

     He glanced up at the comment, sensing something behind it, but unsure if he should press the issue. His mouth opened when a blood-curdling scream filled the air, coming from Salem's tent."

     "Was that..." Alistair questioned, looking past me. "Did I hear..."

     Another cry rent the night, answering his question. _Salem!_ My heart screamed, but I could not go to her.

     "Salem?" Alistair asked, taking a step forward. "Salem!"

     He started for the tent and I stopped him. "No, Alistair. No."

     "What?" his eyes were wild. "What are you saying? Are you deaf? That was Salem _screaming_!"

     "I know. But she'll be all right, Alistair. Wynne is with her; she _will be_ all right!"

     Alistair tried to shove past me and I put my hands on his shoulders, trying to restrain him. "What do you mean, she'll be all right?" he yelled. "Andraste's ass, Leliana!?" he shook me, rough. " _What in **hell**_   _happened_!?"

     "She was injured." my tongue tripped over the words. "When we confronted Marjolaine, she was injured. But Wynne is with her, and she is going to heal. I promise you."

     _Maker, please, hear my prayer. I know Wynne is a strong healer, but even magic cannot fix everything. Be with them...with all of us._

     " _What?_ " his voice was fire. "Injured? How badly is she hurt, Leliana?"

     I removed my hands from his shoulders, closed my eyes, and hid my face, biting my lip. He shook me again; pain shot through my head. "It's," tears stung at my eyes, "it isn't good, Alistair."

     "How bad is not good?" his hand took my chin and forced my eyes to his.

     Another scream echoed from Salem's tent and my tears spilled over. "She's been stabbed." I told him. "The blade was poisoned."

     "And you say she'll be all right!?" he demanded, incredulous. "Let me past, Leliana. I need to see her! I _have_ to see her!"

     "No." my words were steel. "There is nothing you can do! There is nothing _I_ can do! Do you think if I had a choice I would be _anywhere_ but at her side right now?"

     Alistair stopped, ill-at-ease with a woman's tears, but still bitter. "This is your fault." he said. "All of it. You came in here and tore her away from our mission. You charmed her with all your songs and your wiles and your...your... _shoes_."

     _What on earth...dear Maker, he's run out of words._ "Alistair..."

     "No, no...nooooo." he shook his finger in my face. I had slit a man's throat for less insolence. "This...her...it's you, Leliana. You hurt her. And you let her get hurt. Your bloody madcap quest for this Margarine person..."

     "Marjolaine." I corrected, harsh. "And don't you think I know all of that, Alistair? Don't you think I know it should have been me with Marjolaine's knife impaled in my body?"

     "Oh, Maker. _Impaled_?" he became despondent once again. "Salem!" he cried, shoving past me and moving towards Salem's tent. I fell, landing hard on my elbow.

     "Alistair!" I shouted. "Come back here!" I scanned the camp, looking for help.

     Sten was patrolling the border, Oghren had passed out with a flask in his hand, Wynne was with Salem, Zevran had not returned, and Morrigan was still out on her errand.

     "Alistair!" I yelled again.

     The warden did not heed me. I clawed my way to my feet and began to go after him when he stumbled back, yelling waving his arms in the air, frantic. He plowed into me and I crashed to the ground again, cataloguing the number of bruises I would have when I removed my clothes.

     "Bat, bat, bat, bat, bat, bat, bat!" Alistair shrieked, fending off his assailant with wild, frenetic blows.

     A mixture of exhaustion, grief, and the random hilarity of the situation made me laugh. I sat there, hurting as I laughed until I started sobbing, watching as the bat harried Alistair, flying around his face, darting into his hair.

     "Get it off!" he shouted, falling to his knees. "Get! It! Off!"

     A flash ignited the night and a saucy voice drifted through the blinding light. "And now you know how the songstress feels. Harried and attacked with no purpose."

     "M...Morrigan?" Alistair stammered. "I thought...I thought we talked about _swooping_."

     "You talked." she brushed dust from her robes. "I refused to listen."

     "Back off, _apostate_." he snarled.

     "And what good would that do your warden sister?" Morrigan asked _,_ defending Salem and I in a surprising turn of events. "With your hovering and your worry and the excessive chewing of the nails? It is fact that Salem would prefer to have the songstress by her side, yet she is out here, being senselessly bullied by you, because it is _necessary_. Have I made myself clear?"

     Alistair refused to answer her, kicking the earth and stalking off towards the stream.

     Morrigan extended her hand to me for the second time that night. "Are you quite well, songstress?"

     "For now." I replied grateful and confused. "What he said..."

     "If there was a grain if truth in what that ingrate said, then save it to ponder another time. I could use your aid in distilling an antidote. I'm quite rusty on my work with poisons."

     _Of course. Salem._

     "By all means." I followed the witch to her own small campsite, safely away from Alistair and his rage, but not far enough away to escape the cries of pain from Salem's tent.


	11. The Price of Passion and Poison

**Salem**

     Wynne wiped sweat from my brow. "Shhhhh." she soothed, attempting to calm the pained whimpers slipping from my lips. "It is simply the magic burning out the infection."

     _Is **that** __what feels like seven shades of hell?_ I wondered.

     Wynne leaned down and placed her lips on my brow. I gasped, shocked by the tender gesture.

     "Checking your temperature." Wynne explained. "Your fever has risen."

     "'Course it has." I laughed, cutting it short with a groan.

     My chest felt heavy, as though someone had laid a layer of bricks across my lungs.

     "Do not speak, Salem." Wynne cautioned.

     She laid her fingertips against the pulse at my throat; frowned. Clearly dissatisfied, she pressed her ear to my chest. I winced, even though the pressure was slight. I could sense that the senior enchanter was disturbed, even though my vision had darkened to the point where I could scarce detect light from shadow.

     "Wynne?"

     "You are quite strong, warden." Wynne patted my hand.

     "Not strong enough, I take it." my eyes closed.

     "That you still have the power to speak is admirable." Wynne's voice thickened. "The poison is causing your lungs to bleed." she informed me. "And your body is becoming too weak to expel the blood. Your heart is slowing and...and there is nothing healing magic can do for you now."

     "Well," I cracked a smile, "that's...grim."

     I felt warmth on my skin, the heat of tears. Wynne wept...for me. "With your permission, Salem, I think Leliana should be here."

     _To say farewell._ I realized the intent behind the healer's gentle advice. _I'm not going to die. I refuse. I_ _will not leave Ferelden at the mercy of the archdemon and I **will not** leave Leliana alone in this world. I will bloody the Maker himself if he tries to take me from her. _

     "Get her." I whispered. "Please."

     Wynne rose and exited the tent. I had given up on true prayer the night Arl Howe stole everything I held dear. But now, faced with losing something I held above all else, I opened my lips to our nameless, faceless Maker.

     "Please do not...do not make me leave them. Do not take my burdens from me. My hardship has also brought...immeasurable joy. I beg you, suffer me in this world...a little longer."

     The tent flap rustled and I heard Wynne's voice. "Go to her, child."

     Hesitant footsteps approached me. "Salem?" the voice that sounded like sunrise, purity, and all good things. "Salem, Morrigan has returned. She has the herbs and is preparing the antidote." Leliana reached out and took my hand between both of hers. "Stay strong, my love, we can weather this storm."

     _I'm afraid we can't, my darling girl._ "Leli." _I cannot tell her. I cannot break her heart yet again._ "You never...finished your story."

     I could feel her understanding in the silence. And it broke me.

     "Salem, no!" Leliana cried out, echoing all my pain, fear, and frustration. She collapsed and buried her face in my shoulder. "Salem, please! Tell me, tell me it isn't true; it can't be true, it _can't_ be!"

     Her body shook with silent sobs. I wanted nothing more than to hold her, but my body no longer obeyed me. "Leliana," I whispered, "I love you, so much. I...I am...so sorry."

     "Hush, love. There is no need to speak. I know. I know." she urged, attempting to keep me quiet, to save a strength we both knew I no longer possessed.

     _But I have so little time left._ "Forgive me for...giving you...nothing to return to."

     "You gave me so much." Leliana wept. "Don't leave us, Salem. Don't leave _me_."

     _I wish I had a choice._ I fought for air. "Leli." I rasped. "Tell me...your story...how does...it end?"

     "No." I felt her lips on mine, frantic, tear-stained. Desperate. "Maker, please, no."

     _Leliana. I would give anything, anything to be able to see your eyes. If one wish cold be granted me at all, that would be it. To see you, one more time._

     "Leliana," I loved the way her name tripped off my tongue. "Would you?"

     "The," her voice cracked, "the nightingale received a vision from her Maker, who loved her too much to keep her silent at his side. He set her to a warrior with silken hair, haunted eyes, and tainted blood. He gave her a mission to aid this warrior, to remain by her side and provide the strength of her heart and the accuracy of her bow. The nightingale strode forward, even in her fear, fear of being betrayed, cast away, left bloodied and forlorn as she had been before. She went to the warrior, anticipating disbelief, mockery, abandonment. Instead," her voice hitched again, and hot tears fell on my skin from her eyes, "instead...this warrior. This warrior...took her in, accepted her, cherished her. She pro...protected the nightingale, even at great cost to herself. And the nightingale, who had grown up surrounded by shadows and dancing with darkness, at last felt the warmth of the sun. Her warrior gave her true light and selfless love."

     "And they lived..." I whispered.

     "Ever after." she smoothed my hair back. "Happily."

     _Dearest heart, please smile. I wish I could see you smile._

     "Good." I sighed, using what little breath I had.

     My chest felt as though it would not rise again. 

     "Salem?" she asked. 

     I wanted to answer, but could not find the air. My heart skipped a painful beat.  _Soon now,_ I thought.  _This is wrong! Why was I given the blood of a warden if I am to die before my purpose is achieved?_

     "Salem, answer me." Leliana pressed, intense. " _Salem!_ "

     My body shook as it fought to stay grounded in this world. With her. With all of them. My heart skipped again... _so much pain._

     " _Wynne!_ " Leliana shrieked. " _Wynne come quickly!_ "

     Noises...voices...panic. Pain.

     "Salem." Leliana's pleas crashed against my ears. "Salem, stay with me, love. Stay. Salem? _Salem? Maker,_ _**no!** "_


	12. Mortality

**Leliana**

     " _Wynne!_ " I screamed again, pushing my lungs to their limit. " _Wynne!_ "

     Salem's body convulsed in the dance of death I had witnessed too many times before. But not like this. Never like this. Not when my heart and soul were at stake.

     " _WYNNE!_ "

     The senior enchanter rushed into the tent, Alistair and Morrigan on her heels. Morrigan took one look, assessing the dire situation.

     "Alistair, out."

     The warden obeyed.

     Wynne knelt beside me. "What is it?"

     "Her heart's not beating!" I cried, feeling another wash of tears. "Wynne, do something, _anything!_ "

     "Get back, Leliana." Wynne gently pushed me away. "Morrigan, be ready with the antidote."

     "Here, take this." I handed the witch a thin blade, pulled from my wrist sheath.

     "Whatever for?" Morrigan eyed the slim blade with distrust.

     "Andraste's Flames..." _focus, Leliana, focus!_ "...must be introduced through the blood. The same is true of the antidote."

     "Morrigan, work faster." Wynne hissed.

     For once, the witch obeyed without arguing. She soaked the thin knife in the antidote mixture she and I had made, and waited for Wynne's next instructions.

     "Leliana, I need your hands." Wynne said and I scrambled towards her. "Hold her down." she instructed. "I have to try to restart her heart."

     _Salem_. I looked down at her body. Her eyes were closed. She seemed...at peace. Even when she slept, I had never seen her so serene. _How selfish am I_ , I asked myself, _that I_ _want to bring her back into this life of suffering and sorrow?_

     Lightning crackled across Wynne's fingertips. "If this works," she looked at Morrigan. "You will need to introduce the antidote directly to her heart."

     Morrigan pursed her lips together and nodded.

     "Maker, give me strength." Wynne whispered.

     She pressed her hand against Salem's chest and loosed the lightning she held. My warden's body arched and an unholy scream tore from her throat. Even Morrigan winced. Salem collapsed back down to the ground, lifeless. Again, Wynne shot lightning into Salem's body. My arms trembled as Salem thrashed. Another scream, hoarse with anguish, pierced my ears.

     _Maker, **ple**_ ** _ase,_ **_give her back t_ _o us!_ I whispered a desperate prayer.

     "Once more." Wynne wiped sweat from her brow. 

      _And if it does not work? What then? Do we give her up as lost?_

     Wynne pushed down over Salem's heart, gathered force, and let her lightning fly. Again, a scream, followed by a gasp, followed by Salem in my arms, hacking and coughing. Frantic, I held her to me as she shook with spasms and coughs, spattering my face and neck with her blood.

     Wynne wrested the warden from my arms and looked at Morrigan. "Now." she urged.

     The witch of the wilds looked from me, to Wynne, to Salem. She gripped the blade, but did no more. "I...I can't."

     Salem's eyes rolled back in her head and the noise of her ragged breathing went quiet.

     _No!_ Panic and desperation infused me. _I will **not**_ _lose her again._

     I wrenched the knife from Morrigan's grasp, breathed deeply, and plunged the blade under Salem's left breast, the tip of it aimed for her heart. My stomach clenched and nearly rebelled as I caused yet more damage to my lover's already ravaged body.

     Salem's eyes went straight to mine and a heartbreaking whimper slipped past her lips. "Leli?" I had never heard such pain in her voice before.

     With trembling hand, I pulled it out. Wynne's hand replaced the knife, pouring healing magic into Salem's body, speeding the antidote through the warden's veins, stopping the bleeding caused by the new wound.

     Salem's eyes flared and she shrieked, high pitched wails that flayed my heart like the chevalier's whips had flayed my back. I slipped my hand inside hers and she clenched it with such force I thought the bones would break. Every gasping breath left blood flecked on her lips. Gradual, the frenetic gasps gentled into ragged pants and Salem's body sagged in Wynne's arms, silent and still, but alive.

     _She is being forced to endure even more pain,_ my heart lurched. _Salem, can you ever forgive me? I should_ _leave...I should leave and trouble you no more._

     "Leliana," Wynne jolted me from self-pity, "take her. I need to check her vital signs."

     I moved behind Salem, supporting her body. I smiled as her familiar weight settled in my arms.

 _With whom do I jest?_ I asked myself as I smoothed my fingers through her lank, sweat-soaked hair.  _I could never leave you, Salem. And I never will._

     Wynne pressed her ear to Salem's chest, disregarding the blood. Her ear came away scarlet, but there was a smile on her lips. It quickly caught, spreading to my lips, and even to Morrigan's.

     "The antidote is working." Wynne informed us. "Much faster than the poison, thank the Maker. Her heartbeat is slow, but strong. We must clean and bandage the wounds. Infection is still a risk, and with the amount of blood she has lost, her body will be very weak for a time."

     We busied ourselves with cleaning Salem's wounds, the deep one in her side left by Marjolaine's knife, and the second, beneath her heart, placed there by me. Wynne sutured them both, her explanation for the method being that Salem could endure no more physical pain, especially not the sort she described when being healed.

     When it was finished, a collective sigh of relief echoed through the tent. Morrigan's amber eyes shifted and she cleared her throat.

     "I should...tell Alistair...that all is well." she mumbled. "The buffoon is probably tearing his hair out by now."

     Wynne nodded and Morrigan departed with alacrity.

     "What about Salem's lungs?" I asked after the witch left. "She...she will not stop breathing again, will she?"

     "The antidote will stop the hemorrhaging into her lungs." Wynne assured me. "She will, however, keep coughing to expel what blood remains."

     I reached out and squeezed the healer's hand. "Wynne...thank you...for everything. I cannot...cannot even..."

     "Salem is precious to all of us, Leliana." the senior enchanter smiled. "She has saved most of us, in one way or another. And she will continue to rescue us, from ourselves, from each other, from the Blight. Though," Wynne's eyes turned watery, "it was a close thing. She was very nearly lost to us forever."

     I shuddered at the thought and fought down churning feeling of sickness in my stomach. To keep my mind from it, I cradled my warden against my chest, savoring the sound of her slow, even breaths.

     "How soon..."

     "She will not wake for many hours yet." Wynne anticipated my question. "You should use that time to get some rest, Leliana."

     "No." I was quick to refuse. "My place is by her side. I...I do not think I could sleep if I tried."

     "I understand." Wynne rose to her feet, groaning as her joints popped. "I'm afraid my age and exhaustion require that I abscond for the evening. Healing magic is a rare art...it is so taxing to one's mind and body."

     "It is all right." I assured her. "You have...you saved her, Wynne. Thank you."

     "If anything changes, do not hesitate to wake me."

     "I promise."

     Wynne offered me a motherly smile. "You need to care for yourself, Leliana. Eat. Drink." she said. "You cannot care for her if your needs are not met. When Salem wakes, she will be in a great deal of pain. Use the valerian root in my pack. I am certain you know the proper dosage needed to induce rest and not risk death."

     "I do." I replied, hating that it was true.

     Wynne nodded and left the tent, moving slowly. I let myself break apart. Strangled sobs burst from my throat and the tears I could not stop spilled from my eyes.

     I pressed kisses against Salem's forehead, grateful that she was not awake to witness my weakness. "Do not leave me, Salem." I begged. "Do not _ever_ leave me again."

     Even though she slept, she pressed her body closer to mine. It was a simple gesture, but to me it meant everything. It was a promise.


	13. Reason to Live

**Salem**

_"Good morning, my warden." Leliana wakes me with a smile, her hand strolling lazily over my skin. Pleasant shivers rush down my spine.  
_

_"Good morning, dear heart." I lean towards her, touching my lips to hers in a chaste kiss. Unsatisfied, she deepens the kiss, hungry, searching, desperate for connection._

_She pulls away only to breathe. "I love it when you call me that."_

_I chuckle, savoring the lack of urgency in this morning. No monsters to slay, no archdemon to defy. "Why?"_

_Her brow creases in discomfort. "Because I have never been called something so...intimate...before."_

_"No?" my interest piques. "Whyever not?"_

_"With Marjolaine it was always 'pretty thing' or 'nightingale'." sorrow laces her voice. "With anyone else it was--well--no one else ever meant anything to me. Even so, those I was with never called me anything that made me feel close, wanted, or loved."_

_"Do I make you feel loved, Leliana?" I ask, desiring an honest answer._

_There were a few boys back in Highever who fancied me before they realized I wanted nothing to do with them. A few men who refused to listen. And there had been women...but none that captivated my interest and enveloped my entire being the way Leliana did. I had never known what it was to love someone, to share my heart and soul, open my secrets, bare my scars. Not until she came into my life._

_"You do, my warden. More than any I have known before." she seals her words with another kiss, a silent promise._

_**I do not want to wake up,** I relax into Leliana's lithe, toned arms and skillful, dextrous fingers. **There is something beyond this moment that I do not want to face. Can this never** **end?**_

* * *

    My heart screamed in my chest. It felt...damaged. Bruised. 

    _What in seven hells happened? Is it still dark? I cannot see._

     I experimented with movement, lifting my fingers. Fire exploded across my nerves and I gasped. Air caught in my throat and I started coughing. My heart slammed against my chest and pain coursed through my blood like lightning.

     "Salem?" Leliana's voice, close and worried. "Salem, love, are you awake?"

     I could not answer, waiting for the coughing to cease. After what seemed like an eternity, it stopped. My abused lungs drank in air. I gritted my teeth as tears of pain spiked behind my eyes. I refused to let them fall.

     "Leli?" I rasped. My mouth tasted like blood. "How...how long have I been away? I did not want to leave such...such a pleasant dream."

     A warm pressure rested on my forehead. "Are you here, love?"

     _Am I here?_ I wondered. "Where...was I?" I asked.

     "You've come back." she said, breathless, hopeful. "Thank the Maker."

     _This is all quite bewildering._ "Leliana, I'm...I'm very confused."

     "Oh." she chastised herself. "Of course you are. And I am not helping anything, am I?"

     "What time is it?" I asked.

     "A few candlemarks before sunrise." Leliana paused, guessing. "I think. Time has rather smeared to a blur."

     _You sound exhausted, dear heart._ I reached out in the direction of her voice, restraining a cry of pain. "Leliana, are you all right?" _Can you ever forgive me?_

     Her hand grasped mine, shaking with fine tremors. She brought my hand up and pressed her lips against it. "You...you left me, Salem. Your heart stopped beating; you weren't breathing." I felt her tears spill onto my hand. "You seemed so peaceful, free from your burdens and your nightmares. I felt so selfish, knowing that saving your life would only cause you hurt. Wynne had to force lightning into your heart to bring you back. Three times...you _screamed_ , Salem. I knew the pain had to be unbearable. And then...then...I had to put a knife near your heart..."

     The reasons why she had done so poured out in a tumble of words filled with guilt and self-recrimination, but they meant nothing to me. All that mattered was the pain that poured from her in waves. I pressed my hand to the ground and _begged_ my body to obey me. I forced myself to sit up, biting my lip until it bled. I wrapped an arm about Leliana's trembling form and pulled her close.

     "It's all right, love." I whispered, unable to summon the breath for actual speech. "I'm...here. In this world. With you."

     "Salem, you shouldn't..."

     "Hush." every muscle in my body spasmed, every nerve cracked, but I remained where I was, adamant in my position. "I love you, Leliana." she turned her face into my shoulder and I kissed her tears away. "I would not care if you ran me through a thousand times, I would _still_ love you." My lungs began to feel heavy in my chest. "Thank you, dear heart." gratitude overwhelmed me. "Thank you for bringing me back."

     "But I...Salem...what I did. I should never have hurt you. Not after all you have already been through."

     "A thousand times." I swore, reminding her.

     The weight in my lungs grew heavier, drowning me. I coughed, feeling knives through my chest again. A ragged scream at last tore through my defenses.

     "Salem!" Leliana exclaimed, wrapping me in her arms and easing me back down to my pillow. "You fool; you shouldn't even be moving. I should never have..."

     "You...needed...me." I gasped in between spasms so harsh I felt they would shatter my ribs.

     "Stop!" she cried, wiping blood from my lips. "Just stop, please! For once, Salem, _once_ , please, consider yourself! You did not even think, did you? You charged into Marjolaine's blade without _even thinking!_ " her voice broke and she sobbed, interlacing her fingers with mine. "Never do that again, Salem. Not for my life, not for anyone else. Promise me, my warden. Promise me."

     _My darling girl. You would ask a river to change its course, and it would agree. But I...I cannot._

     "I...I can't do that, dear heart." I gave her the only thing I could. Truth.

     "And I love you for it." she admitted. "Love you and hate you. I cannot bear the thought of losing you again."

     "So do not think on it." my dark humor made her laugh. I smiled, but it quickly turned to a wince and I hissed as pain overtook my body yet again.

     "Oh, sweet Maker, I've gone daft." Leliana reproached herself. I heard her rustling, then the sound of water being poured. "Wynne said you would be hurting when you woke? Are you in pain?"

     I smiled again. Leliana could weave any shadow into a personality, change her name, and her entire self. But with me, she was tender, vulnerable, wearing an identity still new to her. Her own.

     "Some pain." I answered, lying for her sake. "It is nothing insurmountable."

     "Drink this." she held a cup to my lips.

     Obedient, I drank, tasting the familiar bitterness of valerian root. Leliana's hand smoothed my hair. "Try to sleep, my love." she whispered.

     _And leave you to the company of your guilt? No._

 _"_ Join me." I invited. "You're exhausted, Leliana. Please, rest with me."

     "I do not wish to risk injuring you again." she said, but even her trained voice could not mask her desire to accept my invitation.

     "It's a risk I am willing to take." _If I cannot see you, I need to feel you. I am more vulnerable than any of you see...and that is not fair to you._ "Leliana...I--I need you."

     "Need...me?" she asked, stunned.

     She had never before been needed. Only wanted, only used, torn, and scarred. All for the hope of being loved.

     "More than life." I told her, overjoyed as I felt the warmth of her body come to rest alongside mine and her head nestled against my shoulder.

     "Am I...hurting you?" she asked, hesitant.

     "No." I ran my fingers through her hair. "Sweet dreams, dear heart."

     I smiled when she said nothing, already asleep.


	14. Aftermath's New Horror

**Leliana**

     In the Chantry, the sisters rose with the sun, gathered for morning prayers, and divided the day's tasks amongst themselves. The routine had been easy to accept. It provided consistency, structure, peace. Those were now things from what seemed a distant past.

     In the warden's camp, sleep was a rare commodity, snatched at the odd moments when we were not fending off the darkspawn, evading Loghain's men, or helping some hapless stranger in dire straits. Thus it was that when I woke, I reached for a weapon I did not carry.

     "Rest easy, Leliana." Wynne's voice floated to me from the opening of Salem's tent. "It is only I."

     "Wynne." I breathed, orienting myself in the waking world. "You startled me."

     "My apologies." the healer smiled as I bade her come inside with a gesture.

     I yawned and my jaw popped. "What time is it?" I asked.

     "Two candlemarks past sunrise." Wynne handed me the bucket of water she had brought and I washed my face, rinsing away the tears and sweat from yesternight's ordeal.

     "Thank you." I said, and the senior enchanter nodded. "I did not mean to oversleep."

     "Don't be nonsensical, dear girl." Wynne chided, though her tone was kind. "I would have let you rest longer had not Alistair and the Antivan been pestering me since first light. When they threatened to assess Salem's condition for themselves, I thought it best that _I_ disturb you."

     "You are a wise woman." I complimented her with a smile.

     She returned it and knelt next to Salem, monitoring her breathing, measuring her pulse, taking her temperature.

     "Has she woken at all?" Wynne asked.

     "During the night." I replied, remembering her cracked, bloodied lips kissing the tears from my cheeks. "She coughed some and spoke a little. I gave her the valerian root from your pack. "How..." _how I never wish to ask this question again,_ "how is she?"

     Wynne smiled. "There is a little color in her cheeks, her pulse is steady, no fever, and though her breathing is still labored, it's even. She is doing quite well for someone who nearly embraced the Maker."

     "Do not remind me." I looked off into the distance.

     _Was it truly such a short time ago?_ I wondered. _Has it not even been a day since the light of my heart threatened to go out forever?_

     Wynne said nothing, merely busied herself with examining Salem's wounds. She lifted the bandages away. The wound Marjolaine had dealt left Salem's skin raw, red, bruised and angrily scabbed over, though it gladdened me to see that the indigo lines of poisoning had faded away completely.

     "Excellent." Wynne said, but she spoke to herself.

     Her hands moved to the bandages around Salem's heart. I turned away, unable to look at the damage I had inflicted on my lover's body.

     "Are you all right, child?" the healer asked.

     "Would you understand if I told you that I do not know the answer?" I whispered.

     Memories of last night overwhelmed me. Salem, pushing her broken body to its limit, embracing me, trying to take away my pain.

     "I would. Go and get some air, Leliana. Stretch your legs and calm your mind."

     _The last time I left this tent, I was called back to tell the woman I love good-bye. I do not wish to leave her side. What if something should happen and I never hear her voice again, feel the touch of her hand, savor her warmth next to mine._

     "She is out of mortal danger, Leliana." Wynne placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I understand your fears, but they will never cease haunting you unless you face them." she smiled and her eyes crinkled. "I am wise, remember?"

     I shook my head, admitting my defeat. "I won't be gone long."

     "Tell Alistair to stop pacing." Wynne called as I left.

     I walked outside and winced as the sun struck my eyes. I breathed deep, savoring air that was not tinged by the smell of blood. _Wynne, you sly fox. How did you know this would soothe me?_

     I glanced at the smoldering remains of last night's fire, laughing aloud as I saw a very stiff, unhappy Grey Warden pacing around it. He lifted his head as my laugh rang out.

     "Leliana." he ran to me; stopped short. "You look terrible." I stared at him, speechless. He stared awkwardly at the ground. "I...I'm sorry. For that. And for last night. I was out of line and I...hurt you."

     I wrapped the poor man in a hug. "We were none of us ourselves last night." I told him. "So do not trouble yourself."

     He pulled out of the embrace, clearing his throat and shaking out his shoulders. "Ah...er...right. How is she, Leliana? Is Salem all right?"

     "Wynne said she is out of danger." I delivered the good news and watched his body sag with relief.

     "That's--that's excellent." he exclaimed. "Did she say when we can leave? Morrigan and Zevran both spotted Loghain's men on their watch last night. I don't think the guards have made us yet, but I do not like them this close."

     _Of course. Maker, could you give us even one day out of danger? Is that too much to ask of you?_

     "I do not think traveling will be an option for a while, Alistair." I broke the news. "Salem is very weak. We cannot jeopardize her health by moving."

     "I know." the senior warden nodded. "But I don't like endangering our necks either. Salem would kill me if anything happened to you."

     "Or you." I looked him directly in the eye. "Or Wynne, Zevran, Morrigan, Shale, Sten, Oghren. She cares for us all. I know she does not say it, but you remind her of her brother."

     His cheeks flushed. "Do I now? That's...slightly strange. Not quite sure if I like being put alongside a dead man."

     _She does not know if he is dead,_ I remembered her telling me such. _But she will not waste time with foolish hopes when so much yet remains to be done. Dear Salem, you needn't prove to us the breadth of your shoulders by taking all the world onto them._

     "Consider it a compliment." I offered. "Salem holds her family very dear to her heart. Not many things get so close."

     "You did." he said, barley repressing a bitter tone.

     It was no secret that Alistair had fancied Salem a great deal, perhaps even loved her, but she had never looked on him as anything more than a brother.

     "I was blessed." I replied, realizing for the thousandth time how true that was. The Maker instilled love in every heart, but not everyone found that love returned by another.

     "Right." Alistair forced cheer into his voice. "I should tell the others. And try to conceal the camp a bit better."

     "Thank you, Alistair."

     He left and I basked in the sun, stretching muscles taut with too many hours spent in worry.

     _Worry that eased when she took me in her arms. Worry that vanished when she confessed her need for me. I do not know what it is to be needed. But I am glad, glad that I can give her a measure of security and comfort._

     I walked the perimeter of the camp, surprised by the energy I felt. Last night I had closed my eyes and fallen into immediate, dreamless sleep.

     _My nightmares fade away in Salem's arms,_ I realized _, but I cannot take hers away. Her tainted blood and darkened past breed nightmares that no one could alleviate. And still she sheds no tears._

     I began walking back towards Salem's tent. Wynne met me by the fire, her brow wrinkled with concern. My heart fluttered unpleasantly in my chest.

     "What is it?" I demanded. "What's wrong? Is Salem..."

     Wynne put a hand up, stalling my questions. "Salem is very weak, but that is to be expected."

     "Then _what is **wrong**_?"

     Wynne took a deep breath; met my anxious gaze. "The antidote only neutralized the poison. It could not reverse the effects, and neither can healing magic. Leliana...Salem is blind."


	15. Devotion's Darkness

**Salem**

     I could feel the warmth of the sun, but could not see it. I had not been threatened by this last night, when I knew all was dark, but here, in the light of day, I was unsettled.

     _Irreversible_. I pushed my hand through my hair, sighing. _No magical or medicinal means to fix it. Those were Wynne's words. Maker why? Why this, why now? Scars I can endure, blood I can lose, but my eyes, my **sight?!** I'm more useless than Oghren when he's flat out drunk. _

     The tent flap rustled and I looked towards the sound, shaking my head as I realized the futility of the gesture. _Blind,_ the word rang inside my mind like a death knell. _Blind. Worthless. Broken. Burden. That is what I am now._

     "Salem?" Leliana asked, her voice timid. "Can I come in?"

     "Of course." _I want to see your eyes, my darling girl. That is all I wished for when I was dying; the one hope that gave me the will to return to you. I did what I did out of love! Cannot heaven see and understand!?_

     A warm presence lay down beside me and a gossamer kiss brushed my cheek.

     "You look very grim, love." Leliana whispered. "What troubles you?"

     "I suppose Wynne told you." I turned my face away and closed my eyes. I did not want her to see them, fractured as they were, unable to reciprocate her gaze.

     "Did you ask that she not?" Leliana wondered, resting her hand on my thigh.

     "No. Everyone should know. That way they are prepared to make up for my shortcomings. I will not preserve my pride at the risk of endangering everyone else."

     "Shortcomings?"

     "As a leader. As a warden. I've...I've failed them all, Leliana." my voice came dangerously close to cracking. "You were right...last night. I didn't think. I acted in what I thought were the best interests of the moment and now all of Ferelden hangs in the balance."

     I clenched my hands into fists; my nails cut crescent moons into my palms. Leliana reached out and gently pried my fingers apart. "None of that, my warden." she said. "You saved me from the fate you now must wear. If anyone must carry the blame for this, it should be me."

     I did not reply, letting the quiet and my self-loathing speak for me. My heart cracked as I heard Leliana's muffled crying. I turned into her embrace, wincing as my healing wounds twinged.

     "Don't." I begged her, tentatively feeling my way towards her face. I brushed her tears away with my thumb, hating that I caused her more suffering. _Maker's breath, what have I done? This guilt is my own. She should not feel the need to wear it._ "Don't cry, Leliana."

     "But the fault is mine." she sobbed. "I take so much from you, Salem. I asked that you help me with Marjolaine, and you saved my life at the cost of yours. You died, Salem! You died for me! How could I be," her breath hitched, "so impossibly _selfish_?! I only wanted to aid you in this mission and instead I've jeopardized it! You should have only those who would not use you at your side!"

     She rose and I heard her walking away. "Leliana." I said. "Leliana? Where are you going?"

     "I'm leaving, Salem." her tone was ice. "Ferelden needs a savior. It needs you. My being here risks your life and I refuse to be such a hindrance."

     _No.  No no no no no no no._ My heart raced. _Don't leave me, Leli_ _ana. Don't go. You are the one ray of hope that I possess in this world. Don't take that from me out of a misplaced sense of guilt._

     "Burrow?" I called, hoping my mabari was within earshot. "Burrow!"

     I paused, breathing heavily. _Maker, I am a wreck. Not even the breath to shout with. But I have to do this. For her, for me, for us. Yes, even for Ferelden. Because without the promise of something to live for at the end of this Blight, without Leliana, this world is not worth preserving. I am not that_   _altruistic._

     "Burrow!" I called again, holding my side as pain shot through me.

     A familiar bark rang in my hearing and the tent rustled. Burrow bounded towards me and shoved his face into my shoulder, wriggling with joy.

     "Easy, boy." I ordered, and he stood still.

     Hesitant, I reached out, pressing my hand against his shoulder for support. "Stay, Burrow." I said, knowing he would obey.

     Gritting my teeth, I sat up, feeling every muscle protest. _You have been through worse, Salem._ I berated myself. _This is the result of your words. Leliana is leaving because of something that is **your** fault. Fix it. After all,_ I bit my lip as I staggered to my knees, _a Cousland neve_ _r returns empty-handed. They never walk away from a battle without some shred of victory. I will not fail my family, and I will **not** fail my heart. I refuse to abandon Leliana. I will not force her to return to that world without love. _

     I leaned against Burrow, breathing as deeply as I dared. Sweat broke out on my forhead. _Get on your feet, Cousland!_ I screamed within. _Your wounds are heali_ _ng, the poison is gone. Who cares that you're blind? It is nothing that has not been surmounted. Now get on your_ _**feet!**_

     I forced myself to stand, unsteady. Burrow shifted to better take my weight.

     "Good boy. I can't see, Burrow." I told him, hoping that his mabari intelligence extended this far. _Maker, grant me one wish._ "I need you to take me to Leliana. Can you do that?"

     He yipped an affirmative. He started off and I nearly fell. "Slowly, boy." I chided.

     I felt lightheaded as I took one painstaking step after another. _How could I even dream of wielding a sword in this state, much less cutting down the archdemon? I cannot even walk!_

     I brushed past the tent's entrance, feeling somehow naked in the world I could not see. Wind whipped past me, catching in my lank, dirty hair. I could not see the ground beneath my feet, or ascertain where any of my companions might be. _These revelations can wait,_ I convinced myself.

     "Burrow, find Leliana."

     _She's all that matters now._


	16. Tears from a Stone

**Leliana**

     Tears blurred my vision once again and I dashed them away, angry. _Find your strength, Leliana_ , I ordered myself. _You have been through worse. This ti_ _me you are not bleeding, you won't be tortured, and your greatest enemy is no longer a threat._ I paused, trying to even out my hectic breathing. _And my safety is guaranteed at the cost of the one dearest to my heart. Salem put herself in harm's way for me. I cannot risk that happening again._

     I pinched the bridge of my nose, remembering. Remembering how Salem had sneaked into my tent, whispering with laughter. How she had told me of Wynne's warning with a roguish smile on her lips and a wicked light in her eyes.

     Her eyes...a brilliant silver-blue that I had never before seen, not even in all my travels throughout Thedas. Those eyes were usually lost in thought, haunted by memories, or flashing in battle, but every now and again, they shone with a light. A light that was mine. It held warmth and comfort, two things I had known all too rarely.

     _And that such a light once existed is enough to sustain me. I will return to the Chantry, I suppose. But not in Lothering. That place is dead now._

     I gathered the last of my sparse belongings and tossed them into my satchel. I would go back to Orlais, take my final vows, and enter the services of the Divine.

     I looked around the tent, satisfied by its emptiness. My gaze fixed on the bow I had given Marjoaine so long ago. I lifted it, hearing its song, touching the fine carvings on the wood.

     _Salem said this was my heart,_ my throat tightened. _That everything I am is represented in the tools that I use._

     I set the bow down, leaving it behind, abandoning my heart. _It is yours, Salem,_ the last tear I would allow myself fell. _It always will be. Farewell, my love. My heart._

     I turned to leave the tent that had been my home these few arduous months...dropped my satchel and quiver to the ground.

     Burrow barked a "good morning" to me. Salem leaned heavily on the mabari, clenching his neck with a death grip. Her sightless eyes pierced my soul.

     _She is white as snow_. "Salem, what...what are you doing here?"

     "Leli." she gasped, slumping to her knees, swaying as though she were about to faint.

     I rushed to her, took her in my arms, and supported her. Her skin was cold, even though she was soaked with sweat. "Salem, you...you _idiot!_ " I exclaimed. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

     "Trying to..." her voice was a mere whisper of breath against my ear, "...stay alive."

     Shock rippled through me. "What?"

     "If you leave," she said, "I will not be able to go on."

     "Do not be ridiculous." I shook my head.

     "Leliana, please, _listen_." Salem begged.

     I calmed myself. _I owe her this...and so much more._ Salem shivered and I pulled her close to me, trying to share my warmth.

     "I am listening."

     She took my hand in hers and pressed it, hard, against her side. What little color remained in her face drained out. I tried to pull away, alleviate her pain, but she gritted her teeth and kept my hand in place. At last, when we could both bear no more, she let me remove my hand.

     "Salem!" I gasped. My hand was stained crimson. I held her up, watching a scarlet stain spread over her heart. "Salem, you've re-opened your wounds. Stay here; I need to get Wynne."

     "No." she growled, her voice low with authority. "I can lose more blood. I ca--can't lose you." she inhaled, her breath trembling. "This," she forced my palm against her wound once more, "is not yours. It does not...belong...to you."

     _Yes. It does._ "Salem..."

     "You were wrong." her blood trickled over my fingers. "And I lied. I _did_ think. When I saw Marjolaine and her knife, I did think, Leliana."

     She fell silent and I found myself unable to speak. _Say **something** Leliana._ I screamed at myself. _If you do_ _n't, you'll find your lover dying in your arms again. I...I couldn't survive that._

     "Then what in the Maker's name went through your mind." I asked.

     Salem leaned in, brushing her lips against mine. They were so cold. "That I would see you unscarred." she whispered. "That you had suffered too much at the hands of someone who claimed to love you. I wanted...wanted to keep you from that."

     "But if I wasn't with you; if you didn't love me." I rushed to take blame. "This would never..."

     "No." Salem insisted. "This wound is not yours. No blame for the scar will rest on you. It is mine, Leliana, and it is my gift to you."

     _I am not worth such a price_. "I...I can't accept this." more tears spilled from my eyes and I cursed.

     "Please, Leli." Salem pleaded. "It's all I have to give."

     _It is everything,_ I realized. _It is everything that you are. Never before have I known a love that simply...gives. And asks nothing in return but for me to...be._

     "It's too much." I whispered.

     "It's not enough." Salem's gentle reply. "I am a warden. My destiny is set. All that I have left, all that is truly mine, is the way I live my life."

     "But your eyes..."

     "If..." she interrupted, "...if the Urn of Sacred Ashes does exist, then I need not worry. But I cannot make that journey without you."

     For the first time since I realized Salem had been wounded, I felt hope. There might be a chance to undo the damage that loving me had done her. "Salem, I..."

     "Please, Leli." I gazed into her broken eyes. They were wet with the tears that streaked down her cheeks. "Stay." she buried her head in my shoulder. "Stay."

     _Wha--what is this? After all she has endured, all the hardship life has dealt her, and the thought of losing me is what brings her first to tears? Oh, Maker...what have I done to deserve this woman?_

     "I'll stay." I pulled her close once more. "I did not even know how I would have brought myself to leave. You are," I glanced at Marjolaine's ill-fated gift, "the only thing I need."

     "Thank you." her voice grew faint. "I love you...so much."

     I kissed her hair. "I love you too. Now, please, let me get you to Wynne. You're still bleeding."

     "All right." she smiled, needing only my assurance, my presence. I was terrified by the strength of her fragility.

     "Lean on me." I guided her, placing her arm about my shoulders.

     Salem hissed and Burrow whined, smelling the blood. "Can you make it?"

     "Have to...try." Salem coughed out a laugh.

     I stood, slow, taking as much of Salem's weight as she would allow. "Stay with me, love." I urged her. Wynne would slaughter me if Salem's condition worsened.

     "I'm...here." she swayed on her feet and collapsed.

     I twisted to catch her, protecting her from the ground. Burrow barked, trying to wake his master. I checked Salem's pulse. Too fast, but not yet dangerous. She breathed still, slow and even. "Go get Wynne." I told Burrow.

     He bounded out, intent on his mission.

     I lifted Salem in my arms, glancing at the shadows beneath her eyes. _I would see you unscarred,_ her words rang in my mind as I carried my warden to her tent. _Why would you wish this, Salem? Why, when you know I am already damaged? You...you see only what little beauty I possess, do you not? My darling, beautiful girl._

     Wynne rushed up to me, Burrow at her heels. "What's happened?" she asked.

     "A great deal of stupidity." _On my part._ "She's re-opened her wounds and over-exerted herself."

     "Knowing Salem," Wynne gave me a warm smile and her hands lit with healing magic, "I'm certain it was for a good cause."

     "Or a lost one." I muttered, easing the warden onto her bedroll and letting the senior enchanter examine the wounds.

     "You're far from that, Leliana." Wynne comforted me. "Our warden sees it, and so do I. Thank you, child."

     "Whatever for?" I asked, touched and taken aback.

     "For remaining with us. With _her_."

     "There is nowhere I would rather be." I smiled down on Salem. "Is she all right?"

     "She needs rest." Wynne rose and dusted off her robes. "The damage done was minimal. No cause for worry, dear girl. When she wakes, give her water and some food. Unfortunately, we do not have the luxury of time. She will have to recover quickly."

     "Thank you, Wynne." I found my voice cracking. "You have saved the last thing I cherished."

     Wynne reached out and squeezed my hand. "We both know why Salem is still with us, Leliana."

     I hung my head, afraid of my joy. Wynne understand, patted my shoulder, and left. I sat beside Salem and guarded her rest. Marjolaine's bow lay abandoned in my tent. It would not see use again.

     It was no longer my heart.


End file.
